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“Art is an illegal drug.”

—Frank Moore

Other books by Frank Moore:
Art of a Shaman
Cherotic Magic
Chapped Lap
Deep Conversations In The Shamans Den, Volume I
Frankly Speaking: A Collection of Essays, Writings and Rants

How to Handle an Anthropologist: Russell Shuttleworth, PhD
interviews shaman/performance artist Frank Moore

Skin Passion

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary Complete 1991-1999
© Inter-Relations 2020
All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-7346850-2-2
Cover and book design by Michael LaBash.
Inter-Relations

PO Box 11445
Berkeley, CA 94712

ge ess Doi
ND Td

Frank Moore, Linda Mac and Kittee ordering pages for issue #7 in their Berkeley, California studio in 1997.

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary (1991-1999)

by Stephen Perkins, April 11, 2019

I have always been lucky. I have a body that
is ideal for a performance artist. And I have
always wanted to be a performer. When I was
a kid, my younger brother used to get mad
when people looked at me when he pushed
me to the movies or to the teen club. He cried.
But I liked people looking at me. That is what
I mean I am lucky. Iam lucky I am an exhibi-
tionist in this body. One time, I was working
out on the jungle gym outside of our house...a
kid came by and asked if I was a monster. I
just roared like a monster. It was fun...I start-
ed to see my body as a tool. I could get away
with things that others couldnt.’

With incredible humor and an infectious smile
Frank Moore (1946-2013) navigated the world in a
body of which he had only minimal control. Born
with cerebral palsy and unable to walk or talk he
used a wheelchair his entire life. When he was sev-
enteen, he created his own personal communication
system by strapping a pointer to his head which
allowed him to point to letters, words and phrases
on a board, and thus he was finally able to break out
of his isolation and communicate with the world.
But Moore did not let his disabled body hamper

his path through life, and his obituaries detail the
myriad creative activities that he was engaged with,
including a long career as a performance artist, a
shaman, poet, essayist, playwright, painter, musi-
cian, Internet TV personality, a 2008 presidential
candidate and co-editor of the zine The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary amongst a host of other activi-

ties.* Along the way Moore also completed a BA in
English (1972, University of New Mexico), an MA
in Psychology (1976, University Without Walls,
Berkeley) and an MFA in Performance/Video (1983,
San Francisco Art Institute). Mention should also
be given here to Moore's longtime partner Linda
Mac and fellow collaborator Michael LaBash, both
of whom were key partners, and collaborators in
helping Moore realize his ideas and projects during
his years living in Berkeley, California.

This text concentrates on only one thin slice of
Moores extensive activities and that is his role as
co-editor with Linda Mac of The Cherotic (r)Evo-
lutionary, a zine that they published in Berkeley in
nine issues (40-8) between 1991-1999.°

Introduction
Looking at the inaugural issue, it is interesting to
note that the first piece of news in Moore's editorial
concerns the recent publication of his book Cherotic
Magic (1990), which is an introduction to the sha-
manistic apprenticeship that he was offering at the
time. Moore admits to this “...shameless self-pro-
motion...for my apprenticeship, for my 6-session
course, for my performance art and videos and
tapes, and who knows what else.’* Throughout the
life of the periodical, Moore would use it as a distri-
bution outlet for the varied products of his assorted
activities.

About the magazine Moore states in the first
issue:

TCR is a journal of the edge. TCR is an offen-
sive movement or measure offering alterna-
tives to the fragmentation, isolation, personal
helplessness which is actively promoted by the
combine of power systems. TCR is anarchical,
based on personal responsibility to reshape
reality into a more human, trusting, loving
reality, full of fun and pleasure. TCR is not a
reaction. It is a magical act of enjoying life. It
is a journal of and for people who are doing
this magical art....Now we magical misfits
know we are not alone, that there are others
out/in here/there feeling, thinking, trying,
doing similar things. This just by itself should

speed evolution up.°

Moore's desire that the magazine should provide
a network of support for these ‘magical misfits’ is
coupled with his larger vision of this movement,
about which he states, “I think it is very important
that there be a Cherotic Movement, not unlike the

so-called Sexual Revolution of the Sixties. This
Cherotic Movement would be (or rather, is) a physi-
cal/spiritual movement that re-defines and expands
sexual, spiritual, social concepts of reality.’° This
latter statement outlines the core themes that would
form the basis of all of Moore's work in various
media, and they would provide the links to all of
his different activities throughout his career. On

the definition of a “cherotic (r)evolutionary” Moore
wrote, ©...Chero is the physical life energy. I creat-
ed the word “chero” by combining “chi” and “eros”.
And revolution is the mutation stage/phase in the
process of evolution...so an erotic mutant for life!”’

The most direct way through which Moore of-
fered interested people an experience of the cherotic
was through his performances, in which the audi-
ence was invited to actively engage in what he called
eroplay. Eroplay is another word that Moore created
to describe the experience of “...intense physical
playing and touching of oneself and others. Eroplay
is also the force of energy which is released as the
result of such play’. Moore emphasizes that “eroplay
is not foreplay, even though foreplay is eroplay...’
and further that “Foreplay leads to orgasm...eroplay
leads to being turned on in many different ways in
all parts of the body,’ and he concludes, “Eroplay is
the blissed-out, warm, relaxed, turned-on, totally
satisfying feeling of a good head rub...eroplay is
that intense feeling throughout the entire body.’
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary would be one of the
mediums through which Moore communicated his
expansive philosophy of the cherotic, and he chal-
lenged his readers to become ‘revolutionaries’ in
this radical movement to reshape, and expand our
physical, spiritual and sexual lives.

In Moore’ editorial for the second issue he ex-
pands upon his editorial position and in his desire
to keep The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary an open and
freewheeling place he states what the magazine is
not going to do:

...we will never do theme issues such as
poetry, gay, sex, women, etc. This is because
the theme format is a great way for editors
and galleries (etc.) to keep control of content,
style, point of view, and the accessibility of the
communication channels they manage. The
theme concept also fragments both people and
dialogue into labeled bits that can be shuffled

in and out of fashion time. TCR will follow
the magic wherever it non-linearly goes. We
will print what we like, what interests us...’

Moore was always alert to the ways systems op-
press and suppress, even within the context of mag-
azine publishing, and all nine issues of The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary display a comfortably unruly aes-
thetic that embraces a wide variety of artists’ works,
poetry, writings by Moore and others, and reviews
of his performances and publications."®

What’s in a Name?

Before I explore the contents of the periodical there
are two subjects that I want to address, and the first
is the name of the periodical. A look at all nine
issues reveals that the periodical’s name for the

first five issues is The Cherotic Revolutionary and
from the sixth issue the title has been changed to
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary. In editorials for issues
#3 (1993) and #4 (1994), Moore spells the name of
the periodical “The Cherotic rEvolutionary” with a
lower case “r’ and the title on the covers reflect this
emphasis on the “R” by printing them with a screen
that distinguishes the letter “R” from the rest of the
word. By issue #5 (1995) the title of the periodical is
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary. In his editorial in issue
#3 (1993) Moore explores the background around
the eventual name change:

There are changes around here. Well, what do
you expect from a zine with “revolution” in its
last name? And that may be one of the chang-
es...our name appears to be in the process of
changing itself from The Cherotic Revolution-
ary to the Cherotic Evolutionary. A revolution
is a mutation from the normal as-is reality,
an experiment and adventure in newness. The
purpose of a revolution, and any mutation, is
to break new ground for evolution...to prod
evolution along."!

The second subject, and question that I want to
explore is, what to call this periodical? In the first
two issues Moore describes it as both a ‘magazine
and a ‘journal. In the third issue he refers to the pe-
riodical as a ‘zine’ and by the next issue zine is used
not only in the editorial but in the masthead for all
futures as well. It's perhaps unsurprising that this

new descriptor also parallels the period when the
title of the periodical was in flux. I would agree with
the use of the word ‘zine’ to describe this periodical,
as its anarchic, and low-tech production, certainly
displays all the features of a periodical published

by enthusiasts and non-professionals. However, at
one level Moore's original use of the term ‘journal’
is also appropriate as well. Journals have historical-
ly been the site where the activities, and research

of specialized groups was communicated to their
professional community. Moore, in his editorial for
the first issue, describes the periodical as being just
such a place, albeit comprised of an ‘unprofessional’
community, but with the same theme of sharing
their research within this group. Moore writes that
the periodical will provide a site for this community
to address:

... magical issues that I for one have been
hungry to talk about for a long time in the
depths that it is possible with people who
have committed their lives to going across the
taboo border to effect evolutionary change. In
future issues of TCR, I hope we will move far
beyond the book, Cherotic Magic, and give
one another aid and comfort on the edge by
linking together, by announcing new findings
in our hidden experiments [my emphasis] on
nonlinear change.””

Inside the (r) Evolution

All nine issues of The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary pres-
ent a smorgasbord of works by a variety of writ-

ers and visual artists, and the following overview
includes the names of the more frequent contrib-
utors in different media. The periodical publishes

a wide range of writings including poetry (Jesse
Beagle, Robert Howington), reviews of the period-
ical, Moore's performances and other events (Kyle
Griffith, Barbara Smith), texts related to shamanism
(Kyle Griffith, Brenda Tatelbaum), personal stories
about sex (Carol A. Queen, Veronica Vera), per-
formance art (Annie Sprinkle, Karen Finley, Linda
Montano), sex and spirituality (Chief Distant Eagle),
and disability issues (Steve A. Brown). On the visual
front the periodical is copiously illustrated (Michael
LaBash, John Seabury, Brian Viveros), and through-
out there are black and white photographs, and
featured portfolios (Tony Ryan).

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Kyle and Luna Griffith, S/R Press.

On the technical side, The Cherotic (r)Evolution-
ary was a photocopied periodical and beginning
with the third issue was published by Frank Moores
and Linda Macs Inter-Relations, their publishing
arm that took over from the original publishers, S/R
Press. Coinciding with this issue was their acquisi-
tion of a Mac computer, and with Michael LaBash
as art editor, the quality of the overall design im-
proves substantially, and would continue through-
out the life of the periodical. However, even in
the final issue (#8, 1999) where the design is at its
tightest, there is still an element of the early anar-
chic quality that grounds the periodical within the
larger history of zines. The periodical was an annual
publication with the exception of #1 and #2, both
published in 1992.

At the back of each issue is information about
acquiring previous issues of the magazine as well as
details about other products available from Frank
Moore’ assorted projects. Later issues also included
a page that featured readers’ and advertisers’ works
and products, as well as their contact information.
The periodical ceased publication when Moore
and Mac started their internet radio station LUVeR
(Love Underground Visionary (r)Evolution), and,

“We were just too busy to do both...."°

Following from this brief survey of the peri-

odical's contents, I want to examine a number of

specific aspects of the periodical that play import-
ant roles in the periodical’s nine-year lifetime. One
theme that resonates powerfully throughout the
periodical is censorship, in particular Frank Moore's
experience of it during the ‘culture wars’ that were
raging during the periodicals early years. I will also
examine two other important elements of the pe-
riodical, specifically Michael LaBashs illustrations,
and Moores written contributions.

The theme of censorship appears in the first
few pages of issue #0 (1991) by way of an article by
Jack Helbig that first appeared in The Chicago News
e Arts Weekly (Oct. 11 - 17, 1990) titled “Outlaw
Artists, Porn? Play? Or Immoral Plot’. In his article
Helbig summarizes the recent conservative attacks
on artists doing edgy performance works and the
fact that they had all received grants with taxpay-
ers monies. Helbig concentrates on Annie Sprinkle,
Karen Finley and Frank Moore, and he outlines
the cases that Senator Jesse Helms and Represen-
tative Rohrbacher launched against what the late
conservative art critic, Hilton Kramer, described as
these “New Barbarians’. The censorship wars of this
period raged across the artworld and nobody in this
community was unaffected by this controversy. Art-
ists doing provocative works were an easy target for
conservatives in whipping up hysteria about the use
of public funds for this type of ‘pornography. Sad-
ly, they were ultimately successful in changing the
granting process in order give local communities a
greater say, and control, over who did and who did
not receive grants. Attempts to cut the amount of
funds provided annually to the NEA (National En-
dowment for the Arts) were ultimately not success-
ful, but within this hostile climate there would be
no move to increase the funding either.

Further into the above issue #0 (1991) Moore
publishes an open letter to Jesse Helms and de-
mands to have a dialogue with him writing, “Why
are you closing channels of expression and funding
to me without due process of law?” claiming that
this campaign is a way of smearing the artists’ rep-
utations and thus making them “..untouchable, un-
fundable, unbookable’.'* Moore concludes his text
with one final address to Helms stating, “If you have
anything to say to me or to ask me, come to talk to
me man to man. Otherwise, get your Big Brother
foot off my back’. One result of this controversy is
that in future issues Moore would feature the works

and writings of both Annie Sprinkle and Karen
Finley, and in issue #3 (1993) six pages and the
cover are devoted to the work of Sprinkle, including
also Veronica Veras important Post Porn Modernist
Manifesto (1989).'°

Michael LaBash’s Artworks

One vital and eye-catching feature of The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary are the illustrations that are featured
in all the issues of the periodical by Michael LaBash.
The artist was one of the intimates within the family
group that formed around Frank Moore, and Moore
always spoke very fondly of this indispensable
member of the cherotic team. LaBash’s drawings

are powerful, humorous and slightly creepy works
in which naked people couple and engage in all
sorts of surreal ways. Hands and body parts couple
with all sorts of real and imagined bodies, and their
assorted orifices.

The first two issues of The Cherotic (r)Evolu-
tionary feature LaBash’s works on the front covers,
with all subsequent issues featuring his works on
the back covers, and they provide powerful visual
equivalents to Moore's eroplay teachings.'” LaBash’s
works are also found inside the periodical where
they are published in a variety of page sizes, as well
as being used as illustrations for different sub-
missions. As one of the consistent features of the
periodical they have a very powerful visual presence
within the periodical, and they seem to merge with
the periodical’s larger project, becoming in the pro-
cess visual talismans for the cherotic (r)evolution.

Frank Moore’s Writings

It goes without saying that Moore's writings would
form a key part of the periodical. Each issue in-
cludes an editorial by Moore about the contents of
the current issue as well as other pertinent themes
and subjects. ‘There are three reviews by Moore of
different printed matter publications, as well as his
own writings which are represented by fourteen
texts spread out over the life of the periodical."

A good proportion of Moore's writings explain
and expand upon his key concepts of the cherotic
(r)evolution and eroplay. In “Nonlinear Bits” (#1,
1992) he writes that, “The cherotic revolution is
an evolutionary movement, an anarchistic way of
change, in which the single person is the center of
the creative force’. In the second issue he exam-

ines a theme central to his practice under the title
“Cultural Subversion” (#2, 1992) and he recounts

C4

his rejection of politics as “...a means of effective
subversive change...’ and how this led him to begin
“..looking towards art and magic for an effective
channel’. Coupled with this vantage point he de-
scribes how, as an artist with very limited funds, he
became a “no/low tech artist,’ and the important
role his access to this personal technology played
in his work, stating, “This no/low tech form is vital
to work which is culturally subversive by expand-
ing the concept of sexuality and reality beyond the
frame of taboos’.

In another important text in issue #3 (1993) titled
“Frank Moore's Philosophy of Art’, he gives a very
succinct account of his philosophy, writing, “I'm not
interested in doing art that comforts, decorates, en-
tertains...'’m trying to go back to the time when art
was the magical, irrational, non-logical channel of
active impact.... Further into this text Moore takes
a personal turn when he writes, “In this kind of art,
my body gives me a definite advantage. It links me
to the wounded healer, the deformed shaman. By
combining this with performance tactics, I combine
realities to create awake dreams’.

Other articles detail different aspects of his
philosophy including a text on the importance of
the open mike as a democratic channel (“A Rant
On An Open Mike,’ #6, 1996), and with “Their
Cuddling Cocoon” (#6, 1996) he describes the
bodily sensations that are experienced during
eroplay. Other articles deal with issues related to
his practice, like ordinances regarding nudity in the
town of Berkeley, the larger field of performance art,
musings on the nature of fame, and an interview
with his counter-cultural hero and journalist Paul
Krassner, former editor of the Realist (#5, 1995).

A word that regularly appears in Moore's writ-
ings about his practice is the word “channel, and
he uses it to describe his view that art and magic
are important channels in assisting the individual
in their personal evolution. I would like to propose
expanding the use of this term to include Frank
Moores own physical body, as the indispensable
channel through which he developed his unique
philosophy of art, and accompanying performance
practice. Furthermore, The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary
can be understood as playing a very similar role in
Moore's work, which is reflected in his editorial in

#5 (1995) where he addresses his take on the func-
tionality of the periodical, “i realize that i and this
zine are just middlemen, just a pipe. when art goes
through the pipe, that is when the pipe is import-
ant...not before or after’:

Wrapping Up
After having been immersed in The Cherotic (r)Evo-
lutionary over the past month, I have to conclude
that the most extraordinary thing about this zine is,
that it exists at all! With Moores restricted mobil-
ity, it required a number of extra hands to design,
publish and distribute the periodical, and this is
what his dedicated family unit was able to provide
him. However, the contents of the periodical were
Moores decision, and they reflect a savvy intelli-
gence in propagating his philosophy, and teachings
on the art and magic of living and loving. Despite
his uncooperative body, Moore's sharp mind was
laser-focused on achieving his cherotic (r)evolution,
and the zine brims with this burning desire.
For the nine years of its life The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary would be a virtual home for Moore's
“magical misfits’, and it functioned exactly as he had
hoped for in his first editorial in #0 (1991) as a place
where this community could come together to
“..give one another aid and comfort...’ and also to
“...know that we are not alone, that there are others
out/in here/there feeling, thinking, trying, doing
similar things?”°
A powerful theme that runs through all of
Moore’ writings and activities is that of ‘commu-
nication, and the zine would be one of the many
channels, or media, through which he was able to
satisfy his desire to be seen and heard. From the
seventeen-year old who devised his own low-tech
pointer communication device and breaks out of his
own personal isolation, there was no holding him
back. A key philosophical, and practical strategy
was his appropriation of the new personal technol-
ogies, all of which would become key elements in
his role as a ‘no/low tech artist’ who was committed
to using this ‘anarchistic technology for his own
cultural subversion.”' A prime example of this ap-
proach was Moore’ use of the photocopy machine
to publish the entire run of The Cherotic (r)Evolu-
tionary.
As I have noted earlier, Moore understood
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary as being a part of the

advance guard of the Cherotic Movement, a move-
ment which he likened to the Sexual Revolution of
the 1960s. Within this larger context The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary can be seen as continuing the long-
standing tradition of artists’ periodicals that accom-
panied all the avant-garde movements of the 20th
century, serving both as indispensable players in
communicating avant-garde intentions, and in this
case preparing the way for the cherotic (r)evolution.
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary at its core, is about
healing the body politic, about mending the
"..fragmentation, isolation, personal helplessness...
of contemporary life and creating “...a more human,
trusting, loving reality, full of fun and pleasure.” It
is not without irony that the messenger, and teacher
of this healing message, was someone whose own
body was so severely disabled, and yet it was this
same body that was the channel through which this
“wounded healer...deformed shaman,” would devel-
op his profound philosophy in which The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary would function as one of the spear
tips of the cherotic (r)evolution.

Footnotes

1. Moore, Frank, “Caves,” Berkeley, 1987, no pagination.

2. For links to Moore's activities: http://www.eroplay.com/
for his videos: https://vimeo.com/channels/frankmoore/
page:1
The Cherotic (revolutionary archive: http://www.eroplay.
com/contents.html

3. Some basic information about the periodical. All nine
issues were photocopied, with the first four issues printed
in standard letter size and side stitched. The remaining
five issues were photocopied in the tabloid size and then
folded, and saddle stitched. The page numbers for each
issue vary from 24 - 38, with an average of 31. The covers
of the first four issues were photocopied onto different
colored papers with the insides the traditional white. The
covers for the last five issues were printed on tabloid size
white card stock, and coupled with the saddle stitching,
enhance the overall look and feel of the periodical.

The first three issues (#0, 1991 - #2, 1992) were published
by S/R Press (Luna and Kyle Griffith) and from #3 (1993)
onwards it was published by Inter-Relations, which con-
sisted of Frank Moore and Linda Mac as the publishers/
editors. Print runs for #3 (1993) was 300 copies, and by
#6 (1996) it was 500 per issue, and continued until the
last issue #8 (1999). Extra copies of individual issues were
printed on demand. There were a few paid subscribers,

10.

ie

1

1D.

and coupled with the contributors the readers were from
all over the world.

Source for the above information was an email from
Linda Mac (4.1.2019).

Below is a listing of the issues and their publication dates.
Vol. 1, #0, April 1991
Vol. 1, #1, January 1992
Vol. 1, #2, July 1992
Vol. 1, #3, April 1993
Vol. 1, #4, 1994
Vol. 1, #5, October 1995
Vol. 1, #6, July 1996
Vol. 1, #7, May 1997
Vol. 1, #8, April 1999

Moore, Frank in The Cherotic Revolutionary, Vol. 1, #0,
1991, p. 2.

Moore, Frank in The Cherotic Revolutionary, Vol. 1, #0,
1991, p. 2.

Moore, Frank in The Cherotic Revolutionary, Vol. 1, #0,
1991, p. 12.

Moore, Frank from his website (The Cherotic Revolu-
tionary section), http://www.eroplay.com/tcr.html,
accessed 3.22.19.

Moore, Frank, “Caves,” Berkeley, 1987, p. 3.

Moore, Frank, Editorial, The Cherotic Revolutionary,
Vol. 1, #1, 1992, p. 3.

In the interests of authorial integrity I should state that
I had an article of mine published in the final issue of
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary (Vol. 1., #8, 1999) titled
“Assembling Magazines,’ (1997).

Moore, Frank, Editorial, The Cherotic Revolutionary, Vol.
1, #3, 1993, p. 3.

It's interesting to note that further into this editorial
Moore credits Kyle Griffith as the person “...who pushed
for the publishing of the book [ed. note Cherotic Magic,
1990]...and then strongly suggested we come out with a
zine.

Moore, Frank, Editorial, The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary,
Vol. 1, #0, 1991, p. 2.

In an email from Linda Mac (4.1.2019) she recounts the
larger story around the periodical’s demise, writing:

TCR was going strong when we stopped publishing it and
we loved doing it! What stopped it was our starting LUVeR
(Love Undergound Vision Radio, later changed to Love
Underground Visionary (r)Evolution). And that is a story

-_ :
y f' £ by
af : san 4

LaBash with layouts for issue #7 in 1997.

14.

15.

16,

in itself! We were just too busy to do both, so we stopped
doing TCR.

Moore, Frank, “An Open Letter to Sen. Jesse Helms,’
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary, Vol. 1, #0, 1991, p. 24. Other

artists attacked by Helms & Co. were: Holly Hughes, Tim 17.

Miller, John Fleck, Johanna Went and Cheri Gaulke.
Ibid., p. 24.

The text of Veronica Veras Post Porn Modernist Manifesto
(1989) is below:

LET IT BE KNOWN to all who read these words or
witness these events that a new awareness has come over

the land. We of the POST PORN MODERNIST MOVE- 18.

MENT face the challenge of the Rubber Age by acknowl-
edging this moment in our personal sexual evolutions and
in the sexual evolution of the planet.

We embrace our genitals as part, not separate, from our
spirits.

We utilize sexually explicit words, pictures, and perfor-
mances to communicate our ideas and emotions.

We denounce sexual censorship as anti-art and inhuman.

We empower ourselves by this attitude of sex-positivism.

And with this love of our sexual selves we have fun,
heal the world and endure.

One commentator on LaBash’s works is Barbara Smith,
and in her review of Moore's book Cherotic Magic in issue
#0 (1991) she points out the discrepancy between Moore's
definition of eroplay as an activity that does not lead to
orgasm, and the fact that many of the figures in LaBash's
works do indeed illustrate this kind of sexual activity. I
too share this reservation, but within the broader reaches
of what this periodical is about can reconcile their subject
matter within Moore's larger philosophy.

Below is a listing of Frank Moore's writings in the
periodical:

Editorials
One in each of the 9 issues

Reviews

#5, 1995: Annie Sprinkle’s Post Porn Modernist
#6, 1996: Barbara Golden Multimedia Package.
#7, 1997: Tony Ryan Photobook.

I;

20.

VAR

Texts

#0, 1991: An open letter to Sen. Jesse Helms

#0, 1991: Museum of Lovemaking

#1, 1992: Nonlinear Bits

#2, 1992: Cultural Subversion

#3, 1993: Frank Moores Philosophy of Art (1987)

#4, 1994: Tribal Performance (1992)

#5, 1995: Interview with Paul Krassner

#5, 1995: Magical Masks in dialogue with James Audlin
(chief distant eagle)

#5, 1995: In Defense of Bad Art (1993)

#6, 1996: A Rant On An Open Mike (1995)

#6, 1996: Their Cuddling Cocoon (1995)

#7, 1997: Mainstream Avant-Garde (1996)

#8, 1999: What Price Fame? (1998) first published in
Performance Journal #16, Spring 1998

#8, 1999: Out of Isolation (1986-1994) Insert in this issue
as a small 8-page pamphlet.

Moore, Frank, Editorial, The Cherotic Revolutionary,
Vol. 1, #0, 1991, p. 2.

Moore, Frank in The Cherotic Revolutionary, Vol. 1, #0,
1991, p. 2.

Throughout his career Moore worked in a wide variety

of media including: radio, video, zine publishing, TV, per-
formance art, writing, and he was a musician, painter and

publisher of books.

22,

2;

Moore, Frank in The Cherotic Revolutionary, Vol. 1, #0,
1991, p. 2.

Moore, Frank in The Cherotic Revolutionary, Vol. 1, #0,
1991, p. 2.

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THE CHEROTIC REVOLUTIONARY #0 APRIL, 1991

TCR is edited by Frank Moore and Linda Mac, and published by Kyle and Luna
Griffith. The art editor is Michael LaBash.

The price for this issue, and the next, TCR #1, is $3.00 per copy. We
aren't taking subscriptions for more than one issue at a time, to avoid tying
ourselves down to arigid publication schedule or magazine size. We want to
remain free to publish small issues frequently or larger issues at longer
intervals and adjust the price accordingly, but each issue will announce the
price of the next so readers can order it in advance.

All material is copyrighted 1991 in the names of the _ individual
authors/artists. Material by the five of us on the editorial staff may be
reprinted without advance permission -- but please inquire before reprinting
material by the other contributors. Of course, we would like copies of all
reprints from the magazine, and we'd also like to see copies of all reviews or
comments on TCR.

We heartily encourage letters of comment from readers and will answer as
many as we can. Please tell us if you don't want us to print material from your
letter -- otherwise we will assume it's OK.

Please address all correspondence and orders for magazines to:

Frank Moore, P.O. Box 11445, Berkeley, CA 94701-2445

This Issue ...

mm
=

2. Speaking Frankly -- Frank Moore

2. The Edge -- Kyle Griffith

3. Flier: Introduction to

4. Flier: Frank Moore's Passion Play Performance, May 10, 1991

5. Forward to Forum 25 Years Celebration Compilation -- Tuppy Owens
6. Outlaw Artists -- Jack Helbig (from New City, Chicago, 10/11/90)
9. Museum of Love-Making -- Frank Moore

11. Correspondence with Brenda Tatelbaum

13. Letter from Brenda McCann
14. Flier: Ancient Ways Bookstore Appearance by Frank Moore, April 19, 1991
15. Review of Cherotic Magic -- Barbara Smith

17. Review of Cherotic Magic -- Kyle Griffith

19. Letter from Colin Wilson
20. Letters from Steve Hirsch
21. Review of Chero Company Performance -- Albert Williams

(from the Chicago Reader, October 5, 1990)
22. Berkeley Artist Under Investigation -- Kirstin Russell
(from the Berkeley Voice, October 25, 1990)

24. An Open Letter to Jesse Helms -- Frank Moore

25. Flier for the Frank Moore Apprenticeship
26. Videos, Music, Books, etc. for sale by Frank Moore & S/R Press

Artwork... Michael LaBash: Cover, 3, 4, 9, 14, 25, 26
Photo... Eric Kroll: 21

TCR #0 -- Page l

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SPEAKING FRANKLY -- Editorial by FRANK MOORE -- April 10, 1991

At first look, this first issue of TCR looks like a shameless
self-promotion, a big advertisement for my book, Cherotic Magic, for my
apprenticeship, for my 6-session course, for my performance art and videos and
tapes, and who knows what else. Well, you have to start somewhere. And that
somewhere is the exploration of the magical edge I have been on for about 25
years. This promotion that we call TCR is a promotion of the edge itself.

Since Cherotic Magic was published, there has been a written dialog
centering around the book. What is exciting about this dialog is that the
people in the dialog are serious explorers of the edge themselves. They are
writers, artists, publishers, cultural revolutionaries, reality subverters
around the world. In this issue, under the cover of writing about my work, they
talk about magical issues that I for one have been hungry to talk about for a
long time in the depth that is possible with people who have committed their
lives to going across the taboo border to effect evolutionary change. In future
issues of TCR, I hope we will move far beyond the book, Cherotic Magic, and give
one another aid and comfort on the edge by linking together, by announcing new
findings of our hidden experiments of nonlinear change.

TCR is a journal of the edge. TCR is an offensive movement or measure,
offering alternatives to the fragmentation, isolation, personal helplessness
which is actively promoted by the combine of power systems. TCR is anarchical,
based on the personal responsibility to reshape reality into a more human,
trusting, loving reality, full of fun and pleasure. TCR is not a reaction. It
is a magical act of enjoying life. It is a journal of and for people who are
doing this magical act. Thanks to S/R Press, we finally have a_ channel of
communications among the personal revolutions ... otherwise known as mutations

. which has always been the main fuel for evolution. Now we magical misfits
know we are not alone, that there are others out/in here/there feeling,
thinking, trying, doing similar things. This just by itself should speed
evolution up.

Let me hear from you. Let us play together...

THE EDGE -- KYLE GRIFFITH -- April 13, 1991

I think another good name for the "edge" Frank is talking about is
"creating free will." The "normal" state of consciousness for Earth people
right now is one that traps them in a universe run much more by predestination
than by free will. It doesn't matter if we identify the source of that
predestination as the God of Saint Augustine and John Calvin or as B.F.
Skinner's “operant conditioning by the social and physical environment," the
result is still the same: a planet of sleep-walkers with very little control
Over their lives.

How can we break out of this trap of predestination and create free will
for ourselves? My War in Heaven discusses some of the ways, Frank's Cherotic
Magic describes a number of others, and TCR is being published to present still
other approaches, by a wide variety of creative people, to this same "edge."

So ... welcome to the edge. Feel free to drop over any time ... but you'll
find you won't fall ... you'll fly!

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FORWARD TO FORUM 25 YEARS CELEBRATION COMPILATION, by TUPPY OWENS

Thank goodness for Forum! It's the haven where sexually aware people can
turn to when they need to be comforted that they are not alone. This is
especially true for people with special tastes -- if you buy Forum, you'll never
feel odd again! Somehow, Forum combines responsibility with fun, so that, not
only does it make you feel OK about your sexuality, you also get cheered up.

Forum has served this purpose for 25 years. It is as important now as ever
before because nothing has really improved in the world out there. Ignorance
and hypocrisy still reign. I can't believe that a recent issue of a popular
British trendy fashion/feature magazine has 35 pages devoted to sex which are
crammed with uptight values, inaccuracies, myths and cliches. Written by
fashion writers and other young know-alls, these pages will confuse thousands of
young minds that are already getting so many mixed messages about sex, porn, and
morality that they hold no hope of ever sorting things out for themselves.

One of the things I like about Forum is that it's so incredibly British.
Eccentric yet down to earth. Unlike those trendy magazines that are heavily
influenced by American culture and have international aspirations, Forum is
about every-day British folk and what they get up to in their bedrooms, and
under the desk at work, etc. And, as every issue proves, there's always
something new and fascinating about sex. How lucky we are that the most
enjoyable subject on earth is also the most boundless.

But what of the NEXT 25 years? It's interesting to note that all the staff
on Forum have been female for the past five years and this fits in with a trend
that I have been aware of for some long time and has now been defined by a
friend of mine, Frank Moore (an American -- see what a hypocrite I am?). He
calls it the cherotic movement. This is not unlike the so-called sexual
revolution of the sixties, but a physical/spiritual movement that redefines and
expands sexual, spiritual, social concepts of reality, and it is being initiated
by strong lusty women. Many anarchistic teenagers are looking to these women as
role models, something both I and female Forum editors are experiencing right
now. Young students are wanting guidance on their college theses, chosen topics
being deep, meaningful aspects of sex.

This cherotic movement is quite new. After the 'free-love' sixties,
ambition for success and consumerism took over, feminism became aggressive,
people became repressed and shallow again. Let's hope the movement will grow
into a whole new inspiration for humanity so that pleasure will, once again,
become the prime reason for existence.

Forum will then become more adventurous, as young people put their energies
into writing imaginative erotica and sharing experiences. They will revitalise
the spirits of the rest of us as we sag in our fight through this age of AIDS
and censorship. We certainly have lived through the toughest era of all -- no
sooner did we find hope for freedom in the sixties as it was whisked from under
our feet. Even Forum is not free to publish anything they wish. But the young
can DEMAND freedom, and will. Madonna and most young bands are a great
inspiration for them to assert their sexuality, yuppy parents offer an ideal
reason to rebel.

We should be all set for the Cherotic Revolution! Rave on, readers, rave

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TCR #0 -- Page 5

THE CHICAGO NEWS & ARTS WEEKLY © FREE * OCTOBER 11 - OCTOBER 17, 1990

THE NEW BARBARIANS

Alias (Art Outlaws, Performance Artists)

_ , ANNIE SPRINKLE Eo KAREN FINLEY §
For showing audiences her For encouraging intense jm © For covering her body £
- Cervix through a speculum. physical touching E with foodstuffs . :
ee ee oe between adults. : 3

“fe , ~ ‘ Me? s, : Ne ate r

m Fest Guide + A Band Of Farmers - Now Weekly!

O conservative art critic
Hilton Kramer, they are the
“New Barbarians...licensed
rebels at the taxpayers’ ex-
pense.” To Jesse Helms‘
rally Rep. Dana Rohrbacher
(R-Calif.), they are a threat
to the established moral or-
der. They are the NEA outlaws, con-
troversial artists the conservatives
would dearly love to silence. Three
of these outlaw artists — Karen
Finley, Frank Moore and Annie
Sprinkle — will be performing in
Chicago this month.

Of the three, Karen Finley is by
now the best known, thanks in part to
NEA Chairman John Frohnmayer’s
awkward defunding of her work, and
in part to conservative columnists
Evans and Novak who labeled her as
“the chocolate-covered woman.”
(One wonders what they’d be calling
her, if the right wing had been hip to
Finley when she was performing
“Yams Up My Grandma’s Ass.”)

Her fame has come quickly. Less
than a year ago, only the alternative
press followed Finley. Even when
her shows at the Edge of the
Lookingglass sold out every night,
the dailies hardly noted her presence
in town. Now on her triumphant re-
turn (for a four-week run at The
Beacon Street Gallery), after a
summer’s worth of press (over)-
exposure, she has received long
stories in Chicago Tribune and Chi-
cago magazine.

Frank Moore and Annie Sprinkle
are unlikely to receive such cover-
age. For one, both artists’ work re-
sists the easy and superficial descrip-
tions that Finley’s work had always
attracted. Even Sprinkle’s bit in
which the audience is invited to take
a peek at Sprinkle’s cervix through a
speculum is too gross to inspire, on
retelling, the sort of ironic “oh yeah?”
grins that Finley’s bits involving
covering her body with this, that or
the other foodstuff do.

For another, both Moore’s and
Sprinkle’s work challenge the con-
sensus view more strongly and in

ways less acceptable than Karen
Finley’s angry tirades and bitter at-
tacks on consumer culture (whose
time has come). Sprinkle’s sexually
provocative performances, involv-
ing sex toys, onstage masturbation,
and parodies of oral sex involving
rubber dildos, have provoked attacks
by both the right and the left (femi-
nists of the Andrea Dworkin variety),
neither of whom see much difference
between real pornography and
Sprinkle’s “Post-Porn” deconstruc-
uions of the genre.

As an admitted former prostitute
and pornstar, Annie Sprinkle’s world
view seems tremendously at odds
with an increasingly hung-up
America. Even the Post-Porn Mani-
festo, written by fellow performance
artist Veronica Vera and signed by
Sprinkle in large John Hancockish
script, seems like a relic from the
pre-AIDs sexual liberality of the late
"710s.

Topped by two erect penises salut-
ing an open vagina, the manifesto
reads: “We of the POST-PORN
MODERNIST MOVE-MENT...
celebrate sex as the nourishing life-
giving force. We embrace our geni-
tals as part, not separate, from our
spirits. We utilize sexually explicit
words, pictures and performances to
communicate our ideas and emotions.
We denounce sexual censorship as
anti-art and inhuman...And in this
love of our sexual selves we have
fun, heal the world and endure.”

No wonder Rep. Rohrbacher, anx-
ious to find the artist who could do
for him what Mapplethorpe did for
Sen, Helms, thought Annie Sprinkle
an easy target. In February of this
year, he launched his attack on the
“feminist porn activist” by telling
the House of Representatives that
Sprinkle was “the recipient of tax-
payer funds for her live sex act show
in New York.” “Actually,” wrote C.
Carr in Village Voice, “she has never
received or applied for a grant of any
kind. ...Neither did she perform a
‘live sex act.’”

It seems Rep. Rohrbacher based

OVER STOR

UTLAW A

Porn? Play? Or Immoral Plot?
Story by JACK HELBIG

Sts

NewClty e OCTOBER 11,1990 7

Photo/ Steve D. Arazmus

CODER STORY

“If this community doesn’t want
me to... have an orgasm from
breathing on stage, I'm not going
to rub it in their faces.”

his whole attack on Sprinkle articles
published in the ultra-conservative
New York City Tribune and the su-
pennarket tabloid National Enquirer.
National Enquirer proved to be an
especially dubious source for infor-

mation, since it based its allegation:

that Sprinkle had received NEA
funding for her work on a one-liner
Sprinkle quipped in the middle of her
performance: “Usually I get paid a
lot of money for this, but tonight it’s
government funded.” Sprinkle, it
tums out, was just joking.

However, the fact that his accusa-
tions were baseless didn’t keep
Rohrbacher from, again in the words
of C. Carr, “sending a letter headlined:
The National Endowment for the Arts
Is At It Again! to every member of
the House, describing Sprinkle’s
show” in detail. Nor did it keep John
Frohnmayer from leaping into the
fray and issuing the odd statement
that “if the performance by Ms.
Sprinkle was accurately described in
recent media reports, then it is
something that would not have been
funded by the Endowment.”

When asked about Rohrbacher’s
attack, Sprinkle’s reaction is surpris-
ing. “I refuse to let anyone make me
a victim, “ she says in a surprisingly
girlish and innocent voice, “espe-
cially people like that... these people
like Jesse Helms have only heard

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about what I do. They’ re totally mis-
informed... They just have no idea
what my work is really like, or what
its about. But that’s okay. I’m really
happy with the way things are moving
along. I’m really, really much more
appreciated here in Europe. I get 100
times more money. A hundred times
more offers. The people who don’t
see [my work], don’t understand
performance art, don’t see sexuality
anywhere near the way I see it, they
have a problem [with my work].”

I asked Sprinkle if Rohrbacher’s
attack had in any way affected where
she can perform. Sprinkle denied that
it had, mentioning only that she had
gotten “a lot of publicity” but still
had been able to do her show
unimpeded. However, half way
through her denial she remembered
one incident on her recent tour. “So I
don’t feel —uh, in Cleveland, Ohio,
there were police in the audience
who would’ve arrested me,” if
Sprinkle had invited the audience to
take a peek at her cervix. “So there
was a blatant case of censorship. But
I think there is a such thing as com-
munity standards. If this community
doesn’t want me to...” Sprinkle
pauses as if unsure how I’m going to
take what she’s about to say, and
then continues speaking a little too
quickly, “have an orgasm from
breathing on stage, I’m not going to
rub it in their faces. I go where I’m
appreciated and wanted. And it’s fine
with me that there are states and
cities and people who don’t want to
see what I do.... don’t see it as them
against me. I see it as we are all one,
and I love them, and its all quite
perfect, you know?”

Sprinkle’s laissez-faire attitude
about the right wing’s attacks on her
art is in marked contrast to her buddy
Frank Moore’s reaction, who is ab-
solutely livid about the treatment he’s
received lately by Helms and Com-
pany. “If you have anything to say to
me or to ask me,” Moore wrote in an
open letter to Helms, published in
High Performance magazine, “come:
to talk tome man to man. Otherwise,
get your big brother foot off my

back.” a aT
nse tw danb dob 2

8, NEWCITY.sOQCTOBER.11, 1990

Of course, Helms’ campaign
against Moore has been consider-
ably more subtle than Rohrbacher’s
blatant, baseless, and almost farcical
assault on Annie Sprinkle. It seems
that, according to Los Angeles Times,
Helms demanded that the General
Accounting Office inquire into the
work of four performance artists:
Karen Finley, Frank Moore, Johanna
Went and Cheri Gaulke. As part of
the GAO’s investigation, the GAO
“sent letters to the Franklin Furnace
and the Kitchen (two of New York
City’s most prominent alternative
performance spaces) formally re-
questing information on appearances
since 1984 by these four artists.

This was not the first time that
Finley, Moore, Went and Gaulke had
found their very different works
lumped together. Around the same
time that Rohrbacher was accusing
Sprinkle of the misuse of public
funds, New York City Tribune (which
is, itself, funded by Rev. Moon’s
Unification Church) began a series
investigating the “obscene” art of,
that’s right, Finley, Moore, Went,
and Gaulke.

The connection between
Rohrbacher and New York City Tri-
‘bune is well documented; Rohr-
bacher’s press secretary David
Eisner, admitted they had gathered
information about Sprinkle from the
Tribune. And theconnection between
the Tribune articles and the Helms’
requested GAO investigation is clear.

Stull, Frank Moore would seem an

odd choice for Helms to pick on. —

Born with ,cerebral palsy, Frank
Moore is not only wheelchair bound,
he is also unable to control his arms
or legs and incapable of making any
sound except a kind of howling yelp.
It is Frank Moore’s conviction that
Sen. Helms just plain doesn’t know
he’s adisabled artist. (A fact the New

York City Tribune article on Moore

also failed to mention.) Which is
why Moore is so anxious to meet
Helms “man to man.”

After all, Moore can communicate.
Thanks in part to a device Moore
developed when he was a teenager
that allows him to paint, operate a
personal computer, or, during inter-
views, spell out what he wants to say
one letter at a time.

We start off talking about whether
being on Helms’ list hurt bookings
for Frank Moore’s performances.
Moore spells out the answer: “They

have closed Franklin Furnace.” Linda

aay eee ste

Mac, long-time companion and fel-
low performer adds, “The [New
Y ork] Fire Department closed down
the performance space and said it
was not up to standards. So galleries
are reluctant to book us because they
see what happened to Franklin Fur-
nace and they see what’s happening
to the Kitchen and they don’t want to
have to go through that.”

Frank adds, “except clubs like
Lower Links. I am lucky. | always
have done grassroots—” “Galleries,”
Linda Mac pipes in, “Is that nght?”

Frank grins his toothy grin and yelps.

Mac continues: “Places that don’t
get NEA money. In Seattle we per-
formed at a place — A.F.L.N(A
Flimsy Lace Nightie) — that pays its
bills by selling coffee and toast during
the day. On the one hand we don’t
make very much money. But we al-
ways have places to perform.”

What could Moore have done to
bring down the wrath of Helms?
Certainly, Helms can’t be upset about
“The Outrageous Horror Show”
(which Frank and his troupe will
perform at Lower Links). In this show,
Moore confronts the audience by
“singing” (howling, really) a number

of rock standards “for one or two
hours.” “Moore jokes, “Maybe Helms
doesn’t like my singing.”

Frank Moore suspects that it is
“Eroplay,” a form of performance he
has developed, involving “intense
physical touching between adults
without limits but is non-sexual.”
Often performed nude, and involving
audience participation, it has been
described by Moore in the Spring
1989 Drama Review as being
“fun...umnocent and childlike!” Un-
fortunately, just how innocent Eroplay
seems depends upon your definition
of innocence. Certainly, anyone hop-
ing to find obscene art could call
Eroplay obscene. “In my work,”
Moore writes in the same essay, “I
always have used nudity and physical
acts which most people would call
sexual.” Though Moore makes the
point that “Eroplay is a safe, fun,
lusty, channel for physical touching”
which does not lead to “physical in-
tercourse,” many of the photos of
Eroplay in performance could pass
for group grope sessions.

The quesuon of obscenity, how:
ever, iS just a smokescreen, Moore
believes. In his essay, “The Combine
Plot,” (published in the current issue
of P-Form), Moore argues that “The
real goal of Helms’ and Rohrbacher’s
attacks is to make all art, not just the
N.E_A.-funded an, the agent for the
established order, to deball art, to tame
down all art. ... The message is clear:
eliminate controversial, experimen-
tal, and avant-garde art.”

(Karen Finley will be performing
“We Keep Our Victims Ready” at
Beacon Street Gallery, 361-3500,
Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, Oc-
tober 5-28 at 8. Frank Moore will
perform his “Outrageous Horror
Show” at Club Lower Links, Thurs-
day, October 1], at 7. Annie Sprinkle’s
“Sex Education Class” will take place
at Club Lower Links, Saturday, Oc-
tober 20, at 7 and 9. To make reser-
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MUSEUM OF LOVE-MAKING -- FRANK MOORE

Imagine. Imagine walking down the sidewalk and seeing on a poster nude
bodies melting into one another, floating into one another inaé_ soft sea of
passions unlimited, cock trees growing out of cunt pots, tit eyes laughing
gently as the navel is sucking the whole universe off. You wonder why the cops,
or some feminist moralist, or some born-again right-to-suffer TV watcher hasn't
long ago ripped down this offense to the moral order.

You look more closely at the liquid moving bodies, and dancing letters are
Squeezed out from the twisting forms. You make out that you are invited tonight
to "The Museum of Love-Making," whatever that is. Must be some performance art
Shit. You have gone to performances that promise to be about sex, to be
passionately erotic, but when you got there, pale faces in black tights talked
in mono-drones about isolation, about fathers' hidden Ilustings after
two-year-olds of both sexes ... with nudity, human touching, sweating passion
never even in sight, let alone explicit. But this poster again arouses hope.
In the back of your mind, there is another handout saying “For Madmen Only."

Imagine. Imagine standing in front of a multi-colored curtain ina

gallery, standing, waiting, standing with people who, like yourself, do not know
wnat to expect. You hear classical music playing softly somewhere. Now three

TCR #0 -- Page 9

nudes, fully brightly soft body-painted, appear from the curtain. They chant
instructions: "No talking, stay on this side of the rope, but you can walk to
any point in the observing area at any time."

Now you are being ushered by the nudes behind the curtain of taboos. You
find yourself holding onto a plush red rope. This rope runs around the entire
large room. In front of you, behind the rope, a couple sits on a mat in warm
soft light. They are kissing, not dramatic, but like they have been kissing
each other for years.

You read the card pinned to the rope: "Mary and Roger Smith have been
married for fifteen years. Both are teachers. They have two children."

Only now you realize that they are an older couple, that Mary is unzipping
his pants to rub his limp wrinkled cock. They are giggling like kids watching
cartoons. You try to look away uncomfortable, seeing something too private.
But as you look around the room, you see couples, maybe a triad or two, on mats
making love. You look back to Roger and Mary, her panties are now off. He is
fingering her pink lips' greying blonde hair. You can see right up her into
darkness. Still no dramatics, no contest of performance, just warm sex pleasure
of years of love-making.

You move on, coming to Gil, a lawyer, and Henry, a househusband ... a
couple of eight years. Gill is slowly moving back and forth in Henry's butt.
Henry makes loud dramatic sighs. Meanwhile, an old woman’ sucks off her young
black lover of three years. On another mat, two sweating nudes eat deep from
each other's sweet pussies. Across the room, you see a hanging woman moaning
orgasms as her husband of eight years whips’ her lovingly with a
cat-of-nine-tails. A beautiful Chinese woman puts her spastic mate deep within
her. The sounds, the human smells of sex and sweat, the sight of all of these
real moving touching playing fucking in their own love relationships creates an
overwhelming alternative reality which reclaims sex in all its forms as a direct
expression of life and love.

This is the performance I am planning to do. Although I have used nudity
and eroticism in my work, I have never before used actual sex. The time is
right to doso. Magically and politically, this performance will send a
powerful message. The fundamentalists, whether feminist or Christian or
political, have attacked sex with smokescreens of violent, abusive, exploitative
sex. They say they are not against sex itself, just... This performance wil]
expose this as a baldface lie.

I am looking for all types of loving couples (triads, whatever) to be in
this piece. All races and ages are welcome. I first plan to stage it in the
Bay Area, but then across the country. So I will need couples in each city.

We have some arbitrary frameworks. A couple has to have been together
committed for at least a year. Each person has to be 18 or older. There is no
money involved. Interested couples should write mea _ letter describing your
relationship and telling why you want to bea part of this magical explicit
performance. My address is:

Frank Moore
PO Box 11445
Berkeley, CA 94701-2445

I also need women for other performances.

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TCR #0 -- Page 10

BRENDA TATELBAUM to FRANK -- January 15, 1991

Today's mail brought me your marvelous "Museum of Love-Making" which will
appear in V5 #4 (late Spring '91) along with the review of Cherotic Magic. As
you know, Kyle sent me acopy and inmy letter of thanks to him I asked he
forward any already-written reviews to me for my file. Please don't worry about
what the review will say because I'm inviting you to send a review written by a
reviewer of your choice. Should this be impossible, I'll do the accolades
myself. Please let me know if you'll be forwarding one to my attention.

On pg. 81 you accurately state "It is fashionable to be anti-porn. But it
is not fashionable to offer an alternative to porn." So let me thank you for
Saying in your letter that you respect what Eidos is attempting to accomplish.
According to our worldview, it's a perversion to malign advocating sexual
freedom (by defending human, civil and constitutional rights) for traditionally
persecuted and oppressed consenting adult sexual minorities of all orientation,
preferences and lifestyles. Our traditional church/state sanctioned paradigm of
married heterosexual penile/vaginal procreative intercourse is the underlying
cause of our culture's supremacist erotophobic aparthied. Eidos' mission
militantly affirms sexual pluralism: the freedom to choose in all areas of
sexual life & lifestyle.

I also agree with you that the performance of "The Museum of Love-Making"
will be your most controversial and I look forward to our’ continued
correspondence.

FRANK to BRENDA TATELBAUM -- January 31, 1991

I would be excited and honored about you writing the review...mainly
because I am looking forward to reading in detail about what you think of
Cherotic Magic. As yet, we have not received other reviews, except the one Kyle
wrote. But he is my publisher, so if it was not glowing, he would not have
published the book in the first place.

I have started getting letters from readers. They say they feel like they
had written the book. They also say the book scares them because it rings true
and that is putting pressure on them to change their life. I take these
reactions as high praise.

I will be interested in the response to "The Museum of Love-making" in
Eidos. I have noticed in the past five years women have gotten fearful and
timid again. I get readings of this from who comes into my work. For example,
last week we were on a 6-hour radio show with Kyle and Luna, then did a 24-hour
performance. Not one woman called in to the radio. Just one woman called about
the performance, and she just wanted to argue about the ratio of cocks to
tits/pussies in the poster. Have you seen this trend? I wonder how this will
effect the couples answering the call for the "Museum."

In the mid-70's, I got more women then men. I think it was because of the
freeing exploring spirit of the early feminist movement which came out of the
‘60's. Men took a few years to catch up to the liberation. Then I a got pretty
equal men-women ratio. But then the anti-sex, anti-men, abuse-paranoia, women
getting seduced by the yang Western view of success...rather than pulling the
reality into balance toward the Yin by using their bodies, sex, taboo-breaking
Subversion. Feminism, in other words, became enfolded in’ the very repressive

TCR #0 -- Page 11

power structure that it was fighting. As a result, most women are, under the
illusion of freedom, more suppressed and repressed now. And the men who had
Shown signs of being liberated are getting shallow again.

I think it is very important that there be a Cherotic Movement, not unlike
the so-called Sexual Revolution of the Sixties. This Cherotic Movement would be
(or rather, is) a physical/spiritual movement that re-defines and expands
sexual, spiritual, social concepts of reality.

There is a powerful group of strong lusty women who are, or at least could
be, cherotic role models. These include people like yourself, Annie Sprinkle.
Veronica Vera, Linda and Luna from here, Karen Finley and a_ few other female
artists, Tuppy Owens in England. Except for Kyle and myself, I do not see a
Similar group of male cherotic role-models.

I do see a beginning of an anarchist movement within the teens and the
early twenty-year-olds that is ripe for the Cherotic movement. They do use us
as linear role models and, more importantly, as their nonlinear pathbreakers.
But there has been little concrete intimate intercourse between these two erotic
evolutionary groups. Between these two-groups, there is_ the black hole of
scared yang-brainwashed women and male bunny rabbits who do not know what to do
with their new yin liberation.

This will be what we will be working with in the '90's. What a challenge!

BRENDA TATELBAUM to FRANK -- February 7. "1991

Thanks for your 1/31 letter, I agree with you that feminism had become
"enfolded in the very repressive power structure that it was fighting." As you
know, feminism is not monolithic; yet only the most stridently vocal anti-porn,
anti-sex, pro-censorship male-hating feminist voices were heard nationwide
during the '80's. Unless liberal, humanist, pro-sex feminists like myself are
attacked by the forces of suppression, we remain virtually invisible:
deliberately ignored or systematically muzzled.

I believe the feminist backlash against the sexual liberalism of the 60s &
70s borders on panic based on a simplistic dogma that all male sexuality is rape
and abuse. Their ideologically politically-correct fascistic "band-aid" remedy
calls for restrictions (censorship) of male-created/oriented fantasy material,
including art, erotica, porn, advertising, etc.: an attempt to control,
dominate & destroy male sexuality. Playing the victim has empowered &
emboldened them, whereas in the past they were silenced.

Now women like me find it difficult to publicly articulate or address the
concept of female (human) sexual autonomy and female (human) sexual pleasure as
distinctly separate from criminal acts of violent sexual abuse. In my opinion,
domineering anti-porn feminists undermine the battle for reproductive freedom by
undercutting the battle for sexual freedom: they deny other women their right
to even publish intimate depictions of pleasurable consensual adult sexual
expression which plays to the religious right's dogma that female/feminists like
me are no better than adulterers and child molesters.

In effect, they're aiding the religious right's attempts to idealize the
family, domesticity and concept of separate spheres for men & women based on
biology and traditional religious & cultural restraints. Some pioneering
feminists from the last century advocated a vision of sexuality for men and
women alike which included spiritual, intellectual and physical planes. Perhaps

TCR #0 -- Page 12

their worst nightmares are coming true: that a complex feminist ideology has
come under the control of "sexually deficient or disappointed women impervious
to facts and logic and deeply ignorant about life" (Stella Brown in the 1912
edition of "The Freewoman").

By the way, I wear a yang/yin around my neck. I believe anti-porn
feminists simply trash all yang.

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BRENDA MCCANN to FRANK & LINDA, February 26, 1991

Well, I must say, your flyer to recruit committed couples certainly "pushed
my taboo buttons." But ... your points are well made. The whole case that I've
carried against "male barbarians" came up in wrath-reaction to the buzzwords
used in the descriptive pitch. The only one I liked was "sacred dark." ("How
dare a man to ejaculate in my sacred dark, like spit upon a sidewalk.") Also, I
was angered that anyone could deduce my being “against sex itself" when it is
middle-class male sexual fantasy projections upon any female that I am against.

On the other hand, the girl/child/soul-projection of me longed to see or
behold the loving committed mature couples role modeling mature human love
including their sexual relations. I cried and cried to receive that. I almost
feel like I've already gotten the experience just from taking in all the images
in the flyer. For me, it was like being there already. It's like I got a whole
room full of new parents.

So, how it all turned out is, for whatever reasons, I discovered in
retrospect that I really was (programmed) against sex. A “wrongness" rapport,
there. And the vision of that many mature couples doing a free-flowing
wonderful joyous sex dance together had never before occurred to me. Then I put
together the idea of the trust factor necessary to complete (in the cave of
apprenticeship) the polarity production and decided that there is no better
place to put it into practice than in the "cave of sacred dark." Suddenly there
is less and less fear in me concerning rampant imagination during any kind of
relationship.

BRENDA MCCANN to KYLE & LUNA, April 8, 1991

Well, the Gods of Balance and other Elo(K)hims have helped me survive my
own imaginations about Cherotic Magic and "The Flier." It all turns out to be a
great and necessary process for the likes to me to even conceive of such images
as the flier gives.

Instead of the cave of Lila I went with the cave of Zardoz -- you know, the
one where you realize that the cave is really just you inside a crystal with all
your own images reflecting back at you.

I'm so happy to have gotten a little contact with Frank and Linda (and Ted
& Alice, Fred & Carol, etc.)! I cleared my sacred dark of middle class
ejaculation spit, not to mention a barbarian and a foggy image of Nostradamas
(representing my beliefs and other fears in his infernal qua(si)trains). Ina
nutshell, a very grand liberation from culturally collected constructs...

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TCR #0 -- Page 13

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REVIEW OF CHEROTIC MAGIC -- BARBARA SMITH

Due to the complex reasons of historical conditions and needs, artists
from the industrialized nations of the world more or less simultaneously (late
1950's - early 1970's) felt a depth of experience uncontainable in ordinary and
available cultural forms. They emerged with a language of remarkable
Similarity--clearly felt in retrospect to be shamanic and whose purposes
extended far beyond the realm of the commercialized art market. One of these
performance artists is Frank Moore who has just published an introductory manual
for prospective apprentices in shamanic/art practices. The book is also a very
helpful means of access to this particular realm of performance art for the
historian and student.

Moore, paradoxically a severely disabled cerebral palsied human being, who
cannot clearly utter a single word is simultaneously a clear and eloquent writer
about a reality-shifting form of art he calls Cherotic Magic and a spectacularly
courageous, ecstatic journeyer and practitioner of shamanic transformational
art.

Reversing the ideas of normal causality, his book guides one towards
powerful experiences of re-integration into a unified field of consciousness
brought about by the apprenticeship. The radical purposes of the book initiate
a teacher/student relationship more appropriately similar to a guru situation
than the normal art student context which we all know’ can be one which borders
on charismatic adulation. Rather, the relationship is intended to awaken and
restructure the whole being with access to an interrelated "web of all
possibilities," a potentiated ground of existence, from which the student may
return empowered with energy, vision, and unflinching faith to change the
so-called reality structure of this fragmented and specialized culture. The
process is a form of magic, which inspires a sense of body wholeness and
aliveness where the personal power is to be found. A manual of faith and a
description of the nature of apprenticeship, the book is a clarification of the
sort of contractual agreement one enters with a_ teacher, rarely stipulated but
here clearly spelled out. This agreement is one of mutual responsibility where
the risk is clearly seen to be taken by both parties.

Having explored these realms a good deal myself both in terms of
self-discovery and also with teachers, I find the book to be rigorously tough in
its demands (on the potential student and quite naturally the teacher as well),
and it also clearly describes qualities required (such as trust) and the
benefits to be gained in these explorations (such as love).

Moore has broken the apprenticeship. into segments with re-entry periods
back into ordinary life between the intervals in order to accommodate Western
Students' difficulty in going through the lengthy course in a sustained fashion.
The fact that the student must exhibit a deep and long-term calling, will or
faith to repeatedly return to the teaching is Moore's greatest risk, for
spiritual apprenticeship is not a common practice in Western culture. This is a
little known fact that the apprenticeship entails risk in the making and/or
breaking of the relationship not only in regard to the student but more so for
the teacher.

Moore speaks of the a-logical interaction, as a journey along which student
and teacher become soul mirrors. Moore is not seeking a following, however. He
States to his credit, I believe, that such work is highly personal and requires
one-to-one attention and becomes non-productive when he has many followers.

TCR #0 -- Page 15

The radical nature of this esoteric apprenticeship practice includes the
breaking of social mores and taboos in order to reach direct experience
particularly in the realm of conventional sexuality. Moore clearly states
however that the touching and erotic playing involved (Eroplay) is not driven by
the goal of sexual intercourse, but is the refreshing awakening of what he calls
Cherotic energy which becomes a free fund of available and heightened "juice"
for healing and creativity. (These teachings parallel quite exactly the
teachings I've experienced from my Native American shaman teacher and also
Tantric practices. )

My first response to reading Cherotic Magic is one of resonance and
appreciation, the feeling of knowing very deeply that of which he speaks as true
and uncompromising. He gives examples and authentication through powerfully
written, illuminating stories about his own early life of terrible isolation and
study; the breakthroughs which allowed him to finally believe in his own
intelligence, joy and beauty and to receive the powerful inner flow of
intrinsically experienced wisdom and knowledge of these liberating teachings.
These life passages correspond to such experiences of mystics everywhere. Il
appreciate many things about this book, not the least of which are the words
Moore has coined to name certain qualities and goals of his work (such as
Eroplay and Chero). One such word, Erour, means vulnerable strength. Its
meaning corresponds exactly to my own early performance experience. In the
past, I put myself in very psychologically risky positions in performances and lI
was frequently criticized for doing so as if I were "hurting myself". My own
experience was quite to the contrary, although I was in fact going to "the place
of fear or pain or constraint" in myself with vulnerability and because I
deliberately chose to do so, it was an act of strength and I returned with
released energy and power.

If anything in his book is weak, it is this issue of authority and how to
define the limits (and/or goals) of guru/student practice. It is weak not
because I think Frank is either weak of unauthentic...but because we live in a
spiritually naive culture. Most people I imagine are cynics. The book is not
written for such people, as there is no language that I know of to convince them
a priori to any experience which in itself is convincing. Further, the way one
meets one's teachers in life is often inherently mysterious and a unique
process. Perhaps the only ways a potential student can judge such persons and
Situations have first of all todo with one's depth of calling and an
experienced synchronicity. Failing that, one needs to feel one may leave the
teacher at any time despite the pressure to stay and one can also inquire of
former students as to their experience.

For me, it would be advantageous if he could paint a picture of what
completion might look like. Is it simply staying the course (twelve years for a
resident; seven on, five off approximately/seven days for the introductory
course)? The difficulty is that completion of such a practice might look very
different in each of the "graduated" and only a_ sense of demonstrable knowing
and changed behavior would be adequate.

The book is replete with black and white drawings by Michael LaBash.
Depending on prior biases, they can appear to be psychedelically violent and
visceral with a heavy emphasis on sex. They are intricate intertwinings of
interpenetrating fields which writhe over the entire drawing area with no
central image. Rather, naked figures whole or in parts of both sexes and
composite hermaphrodites with breasts and cocks weave in and out of planes and
orifices. As I have said, Moore speaks in the text of making clear how Eroplay
is not to be thought of as driving for sex or focused in it. Rather it comes
from a presexual state of infancy, yet here the drawings are strongly sexual in

TCR #0 -- Page 16

my view and often horrific. (No doubt, however not meant so much to be sexual
as frank (pun intended).

Moore's writing about the ethics of commitment is a powerful critique of our
shallow culture. What he says rings true and created a sense of gratitude in me
and inner resolution. He speaks with great personal authority.

In the general dialog of art and culture this form of art appears to be the
most difficult to speak about partly due to its radicality and partly because it
re-integrates art into religion, magic, belief, and effect. It means and makes
change. I, myself have twice come to a bifurcation point re: some need to
synthesize art as I practice it somewhat within the cultural dialog and spaces
of my profession as against a chosen spiritual path (Buddhism or Native American
teachings). I finally had to ask the question: Which was my core path, art or
the spiritual path? And could the creative process itself be a path to
spiritual awakening and inner knowledge? Or was a core of spirit teaching the
only way and the art must be derived from it? Not the least of which is the
question of feminism. The female spiritual journey is for me a major issue
within this questioning.

Moore himself raises the question of Shamanism /as art - /as performance -
/as therapy. He cites performance as the bed of mystical initiation, rites of
passage, mystical ceremonies where art/science, philosophy, and psychology and
theology merge and become whole once again. Here, we may experience these
things as at once ancient and strange. The breaking of restricting taboos and
inner barriers moves towards a place not of isolated individualism, but one of
connectedness both in the interior landscapes and with each other.

REVIEW OF CHEROTIC MAGIC -- KYLE GRIFFITH (From TSR #13)

Why is the author of War in Heaven publishing a book that was originally
written to be used as a text by apprentices studying shamanic magic under a
teacher? Most of the material in WiH that deals with personal spiritual
development and psychic training either directly states or tacitly assumes that
submitting control of the process to a teacher or guru is undesirable, even
dangerous.

Also, one of the most important concepts in WiH is that of "individual
spiritual sovereignty" -- the idea that taking full conscious control over one's
personal spiritual beliefs and psychic/magical practices is the best way to free
one's self from outside mind-control and to develop towards one's full
potential. A casual glance at the contents of Cherotic Magic reveals a lot of
material that seems to violate this principle: Frank's book stresses surrender
of the student's will to "the magic" as it expresses itself through the teacher,
and it frequently condemns "individualism" as one of the chief obstacles to the
student's progress. In fact, Cherotic Magic states in many different contexts
and wordings that being an "isolated individual" is bad, and that it is our
relationships with other people that make us fully human and give us the
opportunity to evolve on every level: socially, physically, mentally,
emotionally, and spiritually.

As I said, it is easy to conclude from a casual skimming of both books that
Frank and I disagree on the fundamental issue of "the individual versus the
group." This conclusion is completely false. Frank is just as staunch a
believer in individual sovereignty as I am, and I feel that intimate personal
relationships are just as important as he does. The only reason certain
passages in War in Heaven seem to contradict passages in Cherotic Magic is that

TCR #0 -- Page 17

Frank and I, who had never read each other's work at the time the two books were
written, used similar words and phrases to refer to completely different
philosophical ideas.

For example, whenever I used the word "individual" in War in Heaven, I used
it with the unspoken assumption that I was referring to a hypothetical "normal
human being" -- in other words, the archetype that all of us Spiritual
Revolutionaries are striving to become. I was not talking about "the average
individual" in this Theocrat-bedeviled society, but about someone who is sane
enough to take for granted all of Frank's ideas about the importance of human
relationships and the role of trust, voluntary mutual dependence, sharing,
caring, and love within them.

I realize now that I should have explained this in War in Heaven, but when
the book was written, the idea that I needed to define exactly what I meant by
"the individual" simply didn't occur’ to me. I've lived my whole life in
intimate relationships with other people and have always been acutely aware of
the importance of those relationships to my sanity, happiness and personal
development, and I assumed that “everyone would know" that when I said
"individual" I did not mean an isolated, self-indulgent egotist, but the kind of
sane individual I have as my own ideal.

On the other hand, when I mentioned "groups" in War in Heaven, I was
usually referring to "average" human institutions on Earth at the present time.
Since practically all such elements of earthly culture -- from traditional
family structures right up through government at all levels to multi-national
systems such as ideological power blocs and major organized religions -- were
originally designed as instruments of Theocratic mind-control, War in Heaven
suggests that Spiritual Revolutionaries avoid contact with existing g institutions
and find or create alternatives that do not practice coercion or mind control.
In contrast, most of the mention of groups and group activities in Cherotic
Magic refers to such non-Theocratic alternative institutions, not to any segment
of the existing social order.

Frank's "magical tribe, consisting of the teacher and his students" is a
completely voluntary association of free individuals, and I know from personal
observation that there's no discernible amount of coercion or mind-control
involved in any of the relationships within the group. Individuals who have
serious problems functioning within the group always end up leaving, and the
group seems willing to let minor conflicts remain unresolved for as long as it
takes to work out completely voluntary solutions. This means that the Chero
"tribe" has so far remained quite small and undergone frequent changes of
personnel, but it also means that I consider it a "politically correct" group
for Spiritual Revolutionaries to join, work with, or use as a model for
designing other groups.

Also, when Frank mentions existing earthly institutions in Cherotic Magic,
his judgments about them are usually much the same as those in War in Heaven.
He doesn't use the same vocabulary as I use to discuss these subjects, but when
it comes to the facts and opinions behind the words, he and I seem to be in
essential agreement on every major point. I feel that Frank's knowledge of what
mind control is and how to break free of it is equal to mine when it comes to
discussing broad historical subjects, and superior to mine when he's describing
the practical details of how to run a magical training system.

In fact, when you come right down to it, Frank is the only "spiritual
teacher" I've ever met in the flesh that I consider completely trustworthy when
viewed from a Spiritual Revolutionary viewpoint, and I think he knows as much

TCR #0 -- Page 18

about the practical details of how to work and teach magic as any of the famous
modern occult teachers: Gurdjieff, Crowley, etc. In fact, he may be superior
to all of them, because he seems to be much less egotistical and inflexible. He
freely admits that what he's doing is experimental, that much of the time he's
proceeding by plain trial and error -- and several times in the few months I've
known him, I've seen him drop an approach that seemed to be failing and try
something else.

Many traditional occultists and New Agers say they're using experimental
methods and learning from experience as they go along, but their actions belie
this -- they're actually just acting out their official doctrine as a script,
over and over, with little regard of how it works in practice. This is why War
in Heaven and my other Spiritual Revolutionary writings have refused to endorse
any particular magical or psychic training system: none of them are close
enough to my ideal for such a system to merit a recommendation. Frank Moore's
System as described in Cherotic Magic is the first magical training system I
feel I can recommend, and I'm extremely grateful he's allowing me to publish his
book.

Anyway, I strongly recommend Cherotic Magic to anyone who is_ studying any
psychic/magical training system that uses sexual energy as part of its practice,
and to all of my other readers who are in basic sympathy with the ideas
expressed in War in Heaven. On the deepest level, Frank is trying to lead the
readers of Cherotic Magic towards the same fundamental Breakthrough in
consciousness concerning the nature of spiritual reality described in WiH.

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COLIN WILSON to KYLE -- February 2, 1991

I'm extremely grateful to you for sending me that really fascinating work
Cherotic Magic. I think Frank Moore is quite brilliant.

I must apologize for taking so long to reply, but I've been working
absolutely flat out. A paperback publisher asked me to do a_ kind of 200,000
word book about 'The Occult', which I did. I began it on Christmas Day, and had
finished it by the end of January. Incidentally, rather an interesting
Synchronisity occurred while I was writing it. Looking through the pigeon hole
underneath my desk, I came upon your War in Heaven. So I put it down at the
Side of my chair, with the intention of taking it upstairs with me to read. I
didn't even take in its title -- although I knew what it was. Then I switched
on my word processor, and saw that the last words I had written the day before
were 'War in Heaven." (I was talking about T.C. Lethbridge.) At that moment, I
turned to pick up a sheet of paper, and saw the word "War in Heaven" on the
cover of your book. It struck me as one of those pleasant synchronisities that
means that somehow you are in good form!

Now I've finished it, I've got to write a play about Mozart for the Mozart
centenary, and get it delivered by the beginning of April. I've also got to
write a book about Ouspensky, and complete an encyclopedia of unsolved
mysteries! So I don't have as much time for reading as I'd like, and haven't
read the whole of Frank Moore's fascinating book. But having got up to the
section called 'reality shaping', I find that it corresponds very closely with
many of the ideas that preoccupy me at the present moment. Please give him my
warm congratulations.

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TCR #0 -- Page 19

STEVE HIRSCH, editor of Heaven Bone, to KYLE and LUNA, January 10, 1991

This book Cherotic Magic both scares and delights me. Part of me doesn't
want to understand it too much because it would mean I would have to change my
life. I think of Rilke's poem "Archaic Torso of Apollo":

We cannot know his legendary head

with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,

gleams in all its power. Otherwise

the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs

to that dark corner where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast's fur:

would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.

Cherotic Magic has a lot to offer I can see. I would like to know more
about this group you're in. Send me some promo materials for CM and I'll sent
them out in my correspondence. I am particularly interested in the artwork of
Labash. Could you please forward me his address or put him in contact with me?
I would like to publish some of his artwork. Heaven Bone #9 hopefully to happen
before September and these drawings would give the mag motion and power.

STEVE HIRSCH to FRANK and MICHAEL -- February 7, 1991

It was very nice to receive your letter and samples of Mike's work. It is
very exciting. It reminds me of atime in high school when I used to just
meditate on a blank sheet of drawing or watercolor paper and let myself relax
into a mild trance -- then I would start to see shapes and images in motion on
the paper, miniature worlds that seem to follow the natural fiber of the paper,
emerging from it, giving the paper depth and liquidity. Michael, your work is
like the river of mind, emerging from arich lake of associations and fevers,
natural imprints of the nervous system in medium -- could your hand possibly be
moving so fast?

Frank, I am still reading Cherotic Magic a little at atime and it
chokes in my throat, making me feel my self-imposed limitations so thoroughly.
Sex, to me, is like rubbing two sticks together -- the flesh dissolves and a
true spark is ignited by some deep inner friction -- a merging of patterns that
build in harmony to create universes. The possessing is illusory and what bliss
remains is a smoother flow of reality through the chakras, a more balanced
vibration. I look forward to reading deeper into Cherotic Magic and will likely
prepare a review for Heaven Bone #9.

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TCR #0 -- Page 20

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CRITIC'S CHOICE: FRANK MOORE

“I have a body that is ideal for a performance artist,” says Frank Moore, who was born with cerebral palsy and is
99 percent physically disabled. Moore's performances are touching in the most literal and provocative sense. A
recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts performance art fellowship in 1985, Moore shares with Karen
Finley (who's also appearing in town this week) the distinction of being on the “hit list” set up by the fearmongers
who seek to set the arts agenda these days. (Performance spaces that receive NEA grants are investigated; if
they have presented certain artists, such as Finley and Moore, their grant-worthiness is called into doubt.) But if
to paraphrase the title of Finley’s controversial show, the oppressors keep their victims ready, Moore refuses to
play victim. In his group piece Outrageous Horror Show, he and his company, Chero, employ erotic play, nude
exhibitionism, audience particspation, and unorthodox concepts of narrative, space, time, and beauty as means to
challenge the barriers society erects around sexuality, cripples, and art. Moore’s appearance is the first offering in
“Year of Peril (The Censorship Issue),” a series of performances that will also feature Annie Sprinkle’s Sex
Education Class and filmmakers Monte Cazazza and Michelle Handelman’s True Gore later this month. Club
Lower Links, Thursday, October 11 (954 W. Newport, 248-5238), 7 PM. $7. —Albert Williams

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BERKELEY ARTIST UNDER INVESTIGATION by Kristin Russell

One of Berkeley's best-known artists may be in trouble with the law. Frank
Moore, a performance artist and self-described "deformed shaman," learned early
last February that the General Accounting Office -- the investigative arm of
Congress -- has been asking questions about him. And Moore, cerebral palsy
victim, a spastic quadriplegic, 99 percent physically disabled, is flattered."I
was feeling left out," he said. "All of my heroes in the past were banned,
jailed, harassed for their work."

Moore is one of four performance artists being investigated by the GAO as
the result of the demand by U.S. Sen. Jesse Helms (R-North Carolina). Helms has
been loudly criticizing the National Endowment for the Arts’ for funding
performers whose works some consider obscene.

Under arecently passed Senate appropriations bill the NEA endowment is
prohibited from funding "patently offensive" material. Helms is now targeting
individual artists, among them Moore, Annie Sprinkle, Karen Finley, and Cheri
Gaulke. Moore has not received an endowment since 1985.

Moore can neither walk nor talk. He communicated by pointing a stick
attached to a head-band at letters on a board, laboriously spelling out words.
Despite his disability he is also an accomplished painter, who has had shows in
Chicago and Berkeley, and the author of a new book, "Cherotic Magic." He is
also a rock star and poet." I am lucky I aman exhibitionist in this body,"
Moore said. "It is not a disability, it is my tool, my meal ticket."

Controversy is no stranger to Moore, whose performances often span eight
hours and involve, among other things, nudity and the use of what Moore calls
Shamanistic rituals. At the heart of Moore's performances is “eroplay," Moore's
made-up name for intimate and playful touching between adults, which, he
emphasizes, iS non-sexual in nature.

Eroplay often entails some or most of the audience participating, either
partially or completely naked. "By using eroplay," he said, "the innocent child
within the body is released in a playful energy. Within this altered reality
intense emotions can be released, intense acts can be performed outside the
normal slots."

By encouraging audience members to shed their clothes and participate in
non-touching exercises, Moore said he is creating a playground where adults can
feel safe in being vulnerable. "I think playing is a safe mind-altering drug,"

he said.

In Moore's production “Wrapping/Rocking," he sits in his wheelchair, a woman
on his lap, both of them naked. Several members of the troupe, including Linda
Mac, Moore's companion, wrap the two in toilet paper, Saran Wrap and tin foil.

TCR #0 -- Page 22

Other performances feature Moore as a rock star, howling to rock standards
while members of his group eroplay and dance naked and oiled under strobe

lights. They throw glitter in the air, and paint each other with chocolate and
whipped cream.

"T wonder why Helms is after me," Moore said. But the simple issue of
nudity and erotica are not the foundations of Helms' objections, Moore said;

governmental suppression of art is motivated by the need to control threatening
visionaries.

Moore said his art is "freeing people; that is threatening. It is also
using shamanism; that is threatening. It is also minorities finding channels
for change; that is threatening; What is threatening to Helms is not the sex or
the gore." Moore said, “it is that if I can be a rock star, anybody can do
anything they want to do."

Moore's next Berkeley performance will be Feb. 8, 1991, at Smokey Joe's Cafe
On Shattuck Avenue. A 24-hour performance is scheduled for Jan. 26; those
interested should phone 562-7858 for an interview.

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AN OPEN LETTER TO SEN. JESSE HELMS -- FRANK MOORE

Enough is enough. I have read in The L.A. Times and The Village Voice that
you have the general accounting office investigating Karen Finley, Johanna Went,
Cheri Gaulke, and myself. Why are you going behind our backs? Why aren't you
talking directly to us artists, instead of having the G.A.0., at the taxpayers'
expense, going to the galleries and the theaters we have performed in to ask
veiled questions about us?

Here I am. Let's talk, man to man. It is the American way. What do you
want to know about me? You had my address because I sent you my article about
how I think what you are doing is patently offensive to the Bill of Rights.
After all, it is the American way to directly confront your opponent, giving him
a chance to answer, and giving the people a dialog. But you did not send me a
letter. You sent the G.A.0O..

This is not an investigation for information. It is an investigation for
extortion. It is part of the campaign to smear us four artists -- as well as
Holly Hughes, Tim Miller, Annie Sprinkle, and John Fleck -- as untouchable,
unfundable, unbookable. The paint that is used to smear is that of "obscene
artists." Are you trying to find out whether or not our work falls into the
legal definition of obscene? Have you seen my performances or even talked to
anyone who has? Have you read my writings on art in professional and scholarly
journals, or my resume of over 20 years? I think not.

I think you know you can not show that any of us untouchable eight are even
remotely legally obscene. So you and your ilk are trying to create the
atmosphere of fear by using the extortion tactics of the Mafia. The N.E.A.
chairman, Frohnmayer, used this atmosphere of fear, under the catchy phrase
"certain political reality," to take away the N>E>A> grants from Finley, Hughes,
Fleck, and Miller. Your extortion is what has created this political reality.

This extortion is an attempt to blacklist us untouchable eight and other
artists who have the nerve to do difficult art. This so-called investigation is
really the extortionist's message to galleries that, if they book us or artists
like us, they are risking the possibility of funding being cut off, of being
audited, of being closed down by the fire department, of being hassled by the
vice squad and other governmental agencies. All of which has occurred to the
galleries that have booked us untouchable eight.

Why are you closing channels of expression and of funding to me without due
process of law? It is a political and cultural blacklist under the cover of
obscenity. Extortion and blacklists are against the American ideals and spirit.

If you have anything to say to me or to ask me, come to talk to me man to
man. Otherwise, get your Big Brother foot off my back.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

TCR #0 -- Page 24

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fairytales can come true

copyrighted 1981

length: 35 minutes

THIS IS A FILM ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS AND DISABILITY
STARRING FRANK MOORE, WHO HAS BEEN DISABLED
SINCE BIRTH WITH CEREBRAL PALSY. IT IS A HUMOR-
OUS, YET REALISTIC LOOK AT HOW TO ESTABLISH
RELATIONSHIPS BY CHANGING NEGATIVE SELF IMAGE.

erotic play

copyrighted 1983

length: 84 minutes

THIS VIDEO EXPLORES WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE
OF ALL TYPES AND AGES ARE GIVEN A CHANCE TO
RETURN TO BEING A KID AGAIN. A SIMPLE GAME OF
DRESS-UP BECOMES A POWERFUL METAPHOR FOR
DROPPING TABOOS, RELEASING CREATIVE EMOTION,
AND FOR DRAMATIC CHANGE. AS A RESULT, AN
INNOCENT EROTICISM IS FOUND... AS WELL AS GETTING
INTIMATE WITH 60 HUMANS.

outrageous dream
copyrighted 1984

length: 41 minutes
A SURREAL, VISUAL POEM OF FOUND IMAGES.

the nude cave

copyrighted 1984

length: 113 minutes

AN EROTIC, SURREALISTIC VIDEO DREAM THAT
COMBINES NON-LINEAR IMAGES AND FRANK’S
ORIGINAL MUSIC SCORE.

the outrageous beauty revue
copyrighted 1980

length: approx. 30 minutes

THIS RAW VIDEO DOCUMENTS THE TACKY, MUSICAL,
OVER-THE-EDGE COMEDY REVUE THAT FRANK
CREATED, DIRECTED AND PERFORMED IN. THE SHOW
RAN ON A WEEKLY BASIS FOR THREE AND ONE HALF
YEARS AT THE MABUHAY GARDENS IN SAN FRANCISCO
IN ADDITION TO A NUMBER OF OTHER NORTHERN
CALIFORNIA AND NEVADA PERFORMANCES. FRANK
PERFORMED ALONG WITH THE THIRTY PEOPLE WHO

MADE UP HIS THEATRE GROUP, “the theatre of human
melting.”

out of isolation

copyrighted 1989

length: 105 minutes

A SURREAL EROTIC EXAMINATION OF AN INTIMATE
RELATIONSHIP OF NEED. STARRING FRANK MOORE

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books BY FRANK MOORE

caves
A COLLECTION OF MANIFESTOS ABOUT eroplay
AND ART.

PUBLISHED 1987 $5

art of living

A GUIDE TO DOWN-TO-EARTH SPIRITUALITY
AS CHANNELED BY FRANK MOORE.
PUBLISHED 1987 $10

cherotic magic
PUBLISHED 1999 $15

OPS OOS OS

music BY FRANK MOORE’S CHERO COMPANY
$5 each

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body music

copyrighted 1989

EXPLORING THE HUMAN BODY AS MUSICAL
INSTRUMENT.

inter-rhythms

copyrighted 1989

PRIMAL MUSIC CREATED FOR FRANK MOORE’S
RITUAL PERFORMANCES.

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frank moore

P.O. BOX 11445
BERKELEY, CA 94701-2445
(415) 526-7858

also available from S/R Press

war in heaven
BY KYLEGRIFFITH $18

the spiritual revolutionary vol. |
BOUND VOLUME ISSUES 0-9 $20

the spiritual revolutionary
INDIVIDUAL ISSUES $3
SAMPLE ISSUE $1

to order write:

S/R Press
P.O. BOX 60327
PALO ALTO, CA 94306-0327

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THE CHEROTIC REVOLUTIONARY #1 JANUARY, 1992

TCR is edited by Frank Moore and Linda Mac, and published by Kyle and Luna
Griffith. The art editor is Michael LaBash.

The price for this issue, and the next, TCR #2, is $5.00 per copy. We
aren't taking subscriptions for more than one issue at a time, to avoid tying
ourselves down to a rigid publication schedule or magazine size. We want to
remain free to publish small issues frequently or larger issues at longer
intervals and adjust the price accordingly, but each issue will announce the
price of the next so readers can order it in advance.

All material is copyrighted 1991 in the names of the _ individual
authors/artists. Material by the five of us on the editorial staff may be
reprinted without advance permission -- but please inquire before reprinting
material by the other contributors. Of course, we would like copies of all
reprints from the magazine, and we'd also like to see copies of all reviews or
comments on TCR.

We heartily encourage letters of comment from readers and will answer as
many as we can. Please tell us if you don't want us to print material from your
letter -- otherwise we will assume it's OK.

Please address all correspondence and orders for magazines to:

Frank Moore, P.O. Box 11445, Berkeley, CA 94701-2445

In This Issue ...

2. Frankly Speaking -- Frank Moore

5. The Black Sheep -- Karen Finley

8. The Psalms of Love -- Noni Howard

11. Succubus -- Tracy Mostovoy

14. Maxine and the Goddess -- Kyle Griffith

17. Cartoons -- Will of the Wisp

18. Nonlinear Bits -- Frank Moore
21. Cherotic License -- Luna Griffith
24. Correspondence -- Frank Moore and Brenda Tatelbaum
28. Answers to the Mail -- Frank Moore
30. Jack/Adelle -- Frank Moore
32. Broughten Fountain -- Jack Foley
35. Something's Going ON! -- Dorothy Jesse Beagle

Artwork... Michael LaBash: Cover, 3, 4, 7, 8, 12, 16, 20, 23, 29, 36
Photos... Tracy Mostovoy: 10, 13
Eric Kroll: 34

TCR #1 -- 1

FRANKLY SPEAKING
Editorial
FRANK MOORE

I AM PROUD OF THIS ISSUE. IT IS WHAT I HAD HOPED TCR WOULD BECOME...A
MAGAZINE BY AND FOR BLACK SHEEP. KAREN'S POEM THE BLACK SHEEP DESCRIBES WHAT I
MEAN BY BLACK SHEEP. WHENEVER I READ OR HEAR THIS POEM, I CRY. THAT IS
CORNY. BUT BEING CORNY IS ONE OF THE MAJOR SECRET WEAPONS IN THE CHEROTIC
REVOLUTION. CORNY IS BEING HUMAN. BLACK SHEEP IS FROM KAREN'S BOOK SHOCK
TREATMENT, PUBLISHED BY CITY LIGHTS BOOKS WHO LET US REPRINT THE POEM HERE. KAREN
TS USUALLY THOUGHT OF AS A FEMALE LENNY BRUCE-LIKE CHOCOLATE-SMEARED NUDE
PERFORMANCE ARTIST KEEPING ME COMPANY ON JESSE HELMS' SHIT LIST. BUT I THINK HER
REAL SIGNIFICANCE IS AS A POET IN THE TRADITION OF GINSBERG'S HOWL...HOWLING FOR
A HUMAN, HUMANE WORLD.

I FEEL LIKE A HOST INTRODUCING MY GREAT FRIENDS TO ONE ANOTHER. GUESS THAT
IS ONE OF THE PERKS OF BEING THE EDITOR OF A REALITY SUBVERSIVE MAGAZINE. LET ME
CONTINUE TO TAKE YOU AROUND.

IF YOU HAVE SEEN THE FIRST TCR OR HAVE SEEN THE CHERO POSTERS, YOU KNOW LA
BASH'S DRAWINGS. IF YOU HAVE COME TO OUR PERFORMANCES, YOU KNOW LA BASH AS
MICHAEL (OR, BETTER YET, AS MIKEE), THE CURLY LOOK-ALIKE, A JOLLY MASTER WHO
FARTS AND LAUGHS HIS WAY THROUGH LIFE. HIS DRAWING-POEMS GIVE TCR ITS UNIQUE
LOOK.

HE, LINDA, KYLE, LUNA AND I ARE THE COLLECTIVE EDITORIAL WE THAT I SOMETIMES
REFER TQ.

I FIRST PERFORMED WITH JESSE AND JACK WITH HIS WIFE ADELLE, ALONG WITH THE
WACKY PERFORMANCE/POETRY BAND THE OUTPATIENTS, WHEN I WAS LOCKED OUT OF THE LAB,
A BAY AREA GALLERY WHICH HAD BOOKED ME BUT THEN BACKED OUT ON ITS COMMITMENT. WE
PERFORMED ON THE SIDEWALK IN FRONT OF THE LOCKED GALLERY FOR TWO NIGHTS. THAT WAS
ABOUT THREE YEARS AGO. SINCE THEN, WE HAVE PERFORMED TOGETHER NUMEROUS TIMES
WITHIN THE POETRY COMMUNITY, WHICH IS IN GENERAL MORE EXPERIMENTAL, ACCEPTING,
AND OPEN THAN THE ART SCENE...MAYBE BECAUSE IN POETRY THE POSSIBILITY, AND HENCE
THE PRESSURE, OF MONEY, FAME, FASHION, AND EVEN OF AN AUDIENCE/READERSHIP IS
SLIM.

JACK IS A DRIVING FORCE IN THE BAY AREA POETRY SCENE, HAVING A POETRY SHOW
ON KPFA AND EDITING POETRY USA. I WAS GOING TO TRY TO DESCRIBE JACK'S ART. BUT
I HAVE DECIDED TO PUT MY POEM ABOUT JACK IN THIS ISSUE. THAT SAVES ME THAT
IMPOSSIBLE JOB. BY THE WAY MASTER JAMES IN JACK'S POEM IS THE GAY (IN MANY MORE
WAYS THAN SEXUAL) POET/FILMMAKER JAMES BROUGHTON WHO IS MAKING LOVE TO LIFE IN
HIS POST-75-YEAR OLD ERA. JACK HAS BOOKED THE CHERO COMPANY AT MANY POETRY
EVENTS. A PART OF OUR FUNCTION AT THESE EVENTS, SOME OF WHICH WERE VERY HIGH
CLASS, WAS TO CALL FORTH A MAGICAL CONTEXT FOR THE EVENT BY SITTING NUDE IN THE
AUDIENCE. ONE TIME JACK BOOKED US FOR A POETRY READING AT A CAFE WHICH INFORMED
JACK THERE COULD BE NO NUDITY DURING THE READING..... SO THERE WAS NOT...BUT THERE
WAS PLENTY OF NUDITY BEFORE AND AFTER. THIS READING EVENT IS THE SUBJECT OF
JESSE'S POEM. JESSE IS ANOTHER OF THOSE SEXY BEINGS BEYOND AGE. SHE IS A BLUES
SINGER, A COMPOSER, A WRITER, A PERFORMER, ETC.

IN FACT, WE HAVE QUITE A NUMBER OF CULT FIGURES REPRESENTED IN THIS ISSUE.
NONI IS A COMMANDING FIGURE IN BOTH THE POETRY WORLD AND THE SEXUAL
UNDERGROUND. BRENDA IS THE PUBLISHER OF EIDOS, THE MILITANT SEX PAPER. TRACY AND
DIVIANA MAKE UP A REVOLUTIONARY ARTISTIC COUPLE. ERIC IS ONE OF THE NATION'S BEST
PHOTOGRAPHERS...AND A SWEET GUY.

TCR #1 -- 2

AND WILL OF THE WISP JUST SENT THE CARTOONS BY THE MAIL. BUT THEY SPEAK FOR
THEMSELVES.

THIS ISSUE MAY LOOK LIKE A POETRY ISSUE. IN A WAY, I HOPE EVERY ISSUE WILL
BE A POETRY ISSUE EVEN WHEN THERE WILL BE NOTHING IN THAT CERTAIN ISSUE WHICH
LOOKS OR SOUNDS LIKE POETRY. I HOPE THIS BECAUSE POETRY AT THE HEART IS AN
ALCHEMICAL LANGUAGE REACHING OUT OF THE NORMAL REALITY INTO THE SUPER-NORMAL
NONLINEAR REALITY IN WHICH THE CHEROTIC REVOLUTION, BOTH THE MAGAZINE AND THE
MOVEMENT, EXISTS. BUT WE WILL NEVER DO THEME ISSUES SUCH AS POETRY, GAY, SEX,
WOMEN, ETC. THIS IS BECAUSE THE THEME FORMAT IS A GREAT WAY FOR EDITORS AND
GALLERIES (ETC.) TO KEEP CONTROL OF CONTENT, STYLE, POINT OF VIEW, AND THE
ACCESSIBILITY OF THE COMMUNICATION CHANNELS THEY MANAGE. THE THEME CONCEPT ALSO
FRAGMENTS BOTH PEOPLE AND DIALOGUE INTO LABELED BITS THAT CAN BE SHUFFLED IN AND
OUT OF FASHION TIME. TCR WILL FOLLOW THE MAGIC WHEREVER IT NON-LINEARLY GOES. WE
WILL PRINT WHAT WE LIKE, WHAT INTERESTS US...BUT WE PROBABLY WILL OFTEN PRINT
WHAT WE DO NOT LIKE, ARE NOT INTERESTED IN. SO YOU WILL NEVER BE SURE WHY WE
PRINT, OR DO NOT PRINT, SOMETHING. BUT YOU CAN REST ASSURED IT IS NOT BECAUSE
YOU ARE IN A FRAMED GROUP.

WHILE WE ARE AT IT, WE CAN OUTLINE OUR FRAME OF COMMUNICATIONS. I WANT TO
HEAR FROM YOU. MY ADDRESS IS THROUGHOUT THIS MAG. I CAN NOT PROMISE TO
PERSONALLY WRITE BACK...BUT I MAY. BUT I MAY PRINT ALL OR PARTS OF WHAT IS SENT
TO ME IN TCR UNLESS REQUESTED NOT TO. WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO EDIT UNSOLICITED
MATERIAL. BUT WE WILL NOT EDIT SOLICITED MATERIAL.

one Size only TOORDER |
AERAWEARSE eal OR WRITE |

on ste ohiet INTER-RELATIONS

$3 PO.BOK 11445
ard BERKELEY, CA

and handling i 5 |

TCR #1 -- 3

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PNG ©1991 LABASH

THE BLACK SHEEP
by
KAREN FINLEY

Copyrighted 1991 by Karen Finley
Reprinted by Permission of City Lights Books

After a funeral someone said to me

You know I only see you at funerals

it's been three since June --

been five since June for me.

He said I've made a vow --

I only go to death parties if I know someone
before they were sick.

Why?

‘cause -- 'cause -- ‘cause I feel I feel so
sad ‘cause I never knew their lives

and now I only know their deaths

And because we are members of the

Black Sheep family.

We are sheep with no shepherd
We are sheep with no straight and narrow
We are sheep with no meadow
We are sheep who take the dangerous pathway through
the mountain range
to get to the other side of our soul.
We are the black sheep of the family
called Black Sheep folk.
We always Speak our mind
appreciate differences in culture
believe in sexual preferences
believe in no racism
no sexism
no religionism
and we fight for what we believe but
usually we're pagans.
There's always one in every family.
Even when we're surrounded by bodies
we're always alone.
You're born alone
and you die alone --
written by a black sheep.
You can't take it with you --
written by a former black sheep.

Black Sheep folk look different from their families --
It's the way we look at the world.

We're a quirk of nature --

We're a quirk of fate.

Usually our family, our city,

our country never understands us --

We knew this from when we were very young

that we weren't meant to be understood.

That's right, that's our job.

Usually we're not appreciated until the next generation.

TCR #1 -- 5

TCR #1 --

6

That's our life, that's our story.

Usually we're outcasts, outsiders in our own family.
Don't worry -- get used to it.

My sister says -- I don't understand you!

But I have many sisters with me tonight.

My brother says -- I don't want you!

But I have many brothers with me here tonight!

My mother says -- I don't know how to love

someone like you!

You're so different from the rest!

But I have many mamas with me here tonight!

My father says -- I don't know how to hold you!
But I have many many daddies with me here tonight!

We're related to people we love who can't say
I love you Black sheep daughter
I love you Black sheep son
I love you outcast, I love you outsider.
But tonight we love each other
That's why we're here --
to be around others like ourselves --
So it doesn't hurt quite so much.
In our world, our temple of difference
I am at my loneliest when I have something to celebrate
and try to share it with those I love
but who don't love me back.
There's always silence at the end of the phone.
There's always silence at the end of the phone.

Sister -- congratulate me!

NO I CAN'T YOU'RE TOO LOUD.

Grandma -- love me!

NO I DON'T KNOW HOW TO LOVE

SOMEONE LIKE YOU.

Sometimes the Black Sheep is a soothsayer,
a psychic, a magician of sorts.

Black sheep see the invisible --

We know each other's thoughts --

We feel fear and hatred.

Sometimes some sheep are chosen to be sick
to finally have average, flat, boring people say
I love you.
Sometimes Black sheep are chosen to be sick
so families can finally come together and say
I love you.
Sometimes some Black Sheep are chosen to die
so loved ones and families can finally say --
Your life was worth living
Your life meant something to me!
Black Sheeps' destinies are not necessarily in having
families, having prescribed existences --
like the American Dream.

Black Sheeps' destinies are to give meaning in life
to be angels
to be conscience

to be nightmares
to be actors in dreams.

Black Sheep can be family to strangers

We can love each other like MOTHER

FATHER SISTER BROTHER CHILD

We understand universal love

We understand unconditional love

We feel a unique responsibility, a human responsibility
for feelings for others.

We can be all things to all people

We are there at 3:30 AM when you call

We are here tonight 'cause I just can't go to sleep.
I have nowhere to go.

I'm a creature of the night --

I travel in your dreams --

I feel your nightmares --

We are your holding hand

We are your pillow, your receiver
your cuddly toy.

I feel your pain

I wish I could relieve you of your suffering.
I wish I could relieve you of your pain.

I wish I could relieve you of your destiny.

I wish I could relieve you of your fate.

I wish I could relieve you of your illness.

I wish I could relieve you of your life.

I wish I could relieve you of your death.

But it's always

Silence at the end of the phone.
Silence at the end of the phone.
Silence at the end of the phone.

RIGINALLY A
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SHAPING. }
aaa PHYSICS, MYTHOLOGY
COVER BY LAB ASH.

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ox 11445

01-2445 (510) 526-7858

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TCR #1 -- 7

The Psalms of Love

the unendurable magic
of our making ourselves love.

> i es
Ee Or LO ee wee eae your hands wispers of flames on my breasts
TO THE PSALMS OF LOVE ae
my belly heaves
molten sweat runs from our tongues

The Summer before the Summer of our Saliva drips from our eyes.

Love it was 1966 and San Francisco was

about to experience the last obscenity

trial in its recent history. Lenore Kandel’s

“The Love Book” a series of four short all week i wear the mask

poems published by Stolen Paper Re- |: «3 of your kisses

view was the last of our erotic literary | |: ' my tongue so’full of love

masterpieces to be acquitted. The poem | °°. zi that when i smile

celebrates hetero-eroticunioninitsuni- |-.:°; && poems crack and all my words

versal and most sacred places, itevokes | (24/70: are lies.

our most primal rights. sae
ag

“Psalms of Love” was originally inspired

by “The Love Book” and it in its own

language celebrates homo-erotic union

in transcendence.

long later i carry the pain of you
hidden in my flesh, |

ee gaet * -
fiate Bene
AK ta Pe

.
by

~ Ake ewe’ ve
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the smell of your hair
on my neck

~ the fuck of you
It is important to remember that “The my come dripping between
your legs

Love Book’s” publisher Allen Cohen

was sentenced to two years in state

prison for the poem’s publication. |-°°. ">:

“Psalms of Love” although first pub- 7 ie . SURELY GOODNESS AND MERCY SHALL

lished in 1980 received strong criticism Pore FOLLOW ME ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE

from the lesbian and black communities AND I WILL DWELL IN THE HOUSE

as a racist, sexist and slave /master ori- OF THE LORD FOREVER

ented work. The poem was banned from | Stins3

a number of performances. oe sd
~ oe

This attitude still prevails. In the words

of poet Kenneth Rexroth:

your tongue in my mouth

you are gifted to know love
to caress the warm air and make it

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: J RPE 329 ces)
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“Against the ruin of the world Ss ne flesh to blood

ar

there 1s only one defense...
the creative act.”
bd

deep and coming

sages

vee
of,

Bees

ripe with desire and understanding
so that sacrilege and profanity
follows us

is all around us

seeking force to enter

the room with the altar

where you and i are holy

burning flesh to flesh.

Noni Howard/New World Press
May 1991
ad

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II

you lie under me

farther than mountains under clouds
my wings pierce your smooth skin

i baptize you with my sweat.

my tears run into the rivers
of your come
my hands are full of you.

you are child beneath me
crying for absolution
i see your innocence and sadness
i forgive you your sins.
i have given you a new skin
to open like doors;
when i lay down the gifts
i have brought you:
my hands, my eyes, my lips
you receive my offerings
i give you no choice.

Iil

1 take off your outer skin

and you come naked to me

lay yourself down

upon my breasts,

1 rock you to sleep

1 sing songs in your flowing veins
i exhaust the day from you

and make it ours.

you are a thousand miles

below me

1 Carve out new patterns in your

aching flesh:

mountains, waves, whole trees and treacherous
valleys open to my touch.

with my tongue, my hands
my lips

1 give you this act

of worship.

you are mine.
you have no other gods
before me.

IV

you have no name but mine
repeat it.

see it shine before us
between us

let it spill off our tongues
into our mouths

together.

i have built a great fire and placed you in its
numinous light.

you are the altar

the holy place

that i consecrate

for my enjoyment.

you are the scabbard of my pleasures
the blood lust

the sea salt of my mother

the one breasted god that we

breast to breast

make whole.

repeat it.
repeat the names of god.

Vv

i draw the knife of my thought
over your throat
and suck you into me.

you become my blood
the rivers of your fears
flow into me.

1 bind you with my mind
your body incarnate
i fashion with my hands.

the upturned breasts
perfect as alabaster,

the soft belly moulded

by desire,

the swelling lips full to receive
my blessing.

turn and let me admire you.
turn and let me see
what i have done.

Copynght 1980 Noni Howard

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SUCCUBUS
A Video by TRACY MOSTOVOY
Description by KYLE GRIFFITH

The Succubus dances seductively in a doorway:
"Christian abhorrence of sex began with the Fathers
of the Church, who insisted that the Kingdom of God on
Earth could not be established until the human race was
allowed to die out through universal celibacy."
"For many centuries, the Church insisted that
orgasms in women were unseemly and devilish."

Two androgynous faces are linked in an "open-air" kiss -- tongues extended all
the way out and twining around one another like snakes:
"Saint Augustine pronounced’ that 'Sexual
intercourse is never sinless, even within marriage.'"

The nude Succubus peeks out from behind rock formations in the Grand Canyon, as
tourists go by on mules:
"Saint Peter said, ‘Women are not worthy of life.'"
"The Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, La Mere, Marina,
represents both beauty and wisdom. All women serve in
the temple of love."

A neck-to-knee shot of the nude Succubus carrying a small bouquet of pink
flowers:
"In the Christian view, women brought death into
the world. Sex perpetuated it."

A man masturbates, leering joyfully into the camera:
"St. Jerome ordered, ‘Regard everything as poison
which bears within it the seed of sensual pleasure."

The Succubus bares her breasts in front of a ruined adobe chapel, a large white
cross looming threateningly over her head:
"Officials of the Inquisition taught that women's
carnal lust was. the cause of Witchcraft and Satanism."

In the driver's seat of a car, the Succubus kisses her lover's breasts:
"Clement of Alexandria pronounced, ‘I have come to
destroy the works of the female. Every woman ought to
be filled with shame at the thought that she is a
woman. '" |

The Succubus draws sensuous patterns in lipstick across her torso:

"Pope Paul VI, in 1976, pronounced masturbation ‘a

grave moral disorder,’ and that ‘only the finality of
procreation' could ensure the moral goodness of sex."

TCR #1 -- 11

Preening in front of a dressing-table mirror, the Succubus touches her body
playfully:
“In the temple of the Goddess, the sacred ritual of
mating with the opposite sex did not exclude from
worship pleasure among women -- lesbian sexual practices
were employed to dispel evil, to heal, and prophesy."

The Succubus spanks herself with a flyswatter:
"Patriarchal religion was devoted to_- the

destruction of the sensual female nature. Women's
sexual desire was considered detrimental to the marital
relationship."

Lesbian lovers embrace in a shower:
"Sinibaldi said no woman could conceive if she

enjoyed sex."

The Succubus does a sensual dance down a long hotel corridor:
"The Goddess was regarded as the patron deity of
sexual love. In the worship of the female deity, sex
was her gift to humanity. It was sacred and holy."

"SUCCUBUS" was written, produced, and filmed by Tracy Mostovoy and edited by
Diane Mele. Diviana Ingravallo stars as the title character. The video had its
world premiere at the Highways Gallery in Santa Monica on June 28 through July
5, 1991 as the introduction to Tracy and Diviana's multi-media performance piece
"NAKED WOMEN."

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“ANAKED WOMEN" will be performed at The Kitchen in New York City” on ‘
. December 12 through December 17, 1991 and at the Theatre Rhinoceros in .
.» san Francisco in June, 1992.

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TCR #1 -- 12

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MAXINE and the GODDESS
by
KYLE GRIFFITH

The way in which a work of art helps shape the viewer's personal reality is
extremely complex and non-linear. I've always been aware of this, of course, but my
recent experience with writing a critical analysis of the multi-media performance
piece "Naked Women" by Diviana Ingravallo and Tracy Mostovoy has, I think, given me
some new insight into the whole concept of "archetypes" and the way they affect life.

The main archetype used in the piece is the symbolic division of the phases of
a woman's life into the three aspects of the Triple Goddess: virgin, mother, and hag.
But Diviana's character "Maxine" does not live a typical life. We first see her in
a vagina-dentata costume, having what is eventually revealed to be a daydream about
turning into a vengeful avatar of the Goddess and sexually devouring the men who leer
at her as she dances in a strip-club. In the second part of the scene, she describes
her day-to-day life as a stripper and her relationships with various people: the men
in her audiences, the other strippers, and her lesbian lover. In the second scene,
She is an S&M mistress, invoking images of Kali, Goddess of Destruction, as she
describes her interactions with her clients. Finally, the third scene shows her as
a prostitute, walking the streets and engaging in fantasies that border on madness,
no longer able to tell inspirational thoughts about the Goddess from mere wishful
thinking.

The entire monologue is a mixture of utter realism with symbolic fantasy --
alternately linear and non-linear, as poetry often is. This mixture of linear and
non-linear reality is greatly heightened by Tracy's slides, which are projected on
the wall behind Diviana at intervals throughout the show. Some are completely
realistic -- for example, a series of shots of men under bondage and torture in an
S&M dungeon. Others are blurred, distorted, or flashed too fast for the eye to fully
register -- especially a number of lesbian-erotic shots. And the appearance of the
Slides in relation to what Diviana is saying in the monologue is carefully timed to
produce a complex, non-linear effect.

Maxine's monologs, alternating between her archetypal fantasies about the Goddess
and vivid descriptions of the -- often sordid -- details of her own life are heavy
with irony and a basic sense of hopelessness and frustration gave me a powerful
feeling that Maxine often misused the Goddess archetype and ended up creating a
reality for herself that was essentially negative and destructive. For example, the
"vagina dentata" daydream is just a fantasy about the revenge the stripper would take
on the men in her audiences if she only had the power of a goddess to turn the
destructive potential in their exploitative lust back on them. And when Maxine starts
talking about her actual on-stage relationships with these men, it becomes obvious
that she herself actively and consciously contributes to creating the cycle of mutual
contempt and loathing by allowing herself to indulge all of her own negative feelings
while performing.

Since she makes her living by turning men on with her strip-performances, but
isn't sexually attracted to them, the healthy way to react to their lust would be to
repress her negative feelings about it as much as possible, and especially to conceal
these feelings from her audience. By indulging these feelings and openly treating
the men with contempt, she is helping create a social reality that perpetuates the
concept of "sex as conquest and exploitation." And she's completely aware of this,
because she says, "Tom is a go-go bar addict, and I'm a notorious co." So she's
allowing herself to perpetuate the problem by refusing to control how she expresses
her inner feelings.

TCR #1 -- 14

When the same analysis is applied to the mistress, it appears on the surface
that Maxine has learned this lesson, but her dialog proves that she hasn't. Her
overt behavior on stage is now completely appropriate to the situation -- her
clients have come to fulfill a desire to submit to a dominatrix, and her contempt
for them contributes to this. The men she dominates come away from the sessions
feeling they got what they asked for -- she doesn't frustrate them the way she
did her audiences as a stripper, so she's not actively being a co-dependent for
addiction -- but from her own viewpoint, being a mistress is just as frustrating
and exploitative as being a stripper.

The client gets what he wants out of being a slave for a brief period, then
goes back to his regular role in the male-dominated "real world" after receiving
a form of psychotherapy to keep him from going crazy over the guilt generated by
being an exploiter, but the mistress isn't really getting anything out of the
process except money. Being an S&M dominant doesn't work to liberate one from
the desire for power -- if there's any effect on the personality, it tends to be
the reverse. Maxine's fantasies remain essentially the same as a mistress as
they were when she was a stripper -- she still wants revenge for wrongs done to
women, still creates mental images of a flesh-devouring Goddess. And she remains
just as aware of the essential irony of the situation, as when she says, "I am
so forever in their debt for giving themselves to the Goddess during their
lunch-break, before they go back to working for God." As I watched this scene,
I kept hoping she'd realize that, instead of wishing that she could actually maim
or kill these men, and fantasizing a monster-goddess to do it for her, she would
be much better off realizing that she, too, could empower herself through
"switching" and becoming a submissive some of the time (a common practice in the
professional S&M community).

By the time Maxine has become a prostitute, her fantasies have become so
mixed up with her opinions about realities that she obviously can no longer
discriminate between them. She is the Goddess, she is Mary Magdalene, and she
is equally the burned-out old whore who can genuinely believe that in a few days
she'll be off the streets and turning her tricks in a mansion in Beverly Hills.
This is the reality, both on the earth plane and in her fantasies, that her
actions have created over the whole course of her life. She continues to
Survive, and she still has the capacity to love and to enjoy life (to some
extent, though we in the audience don't know how much from the brief glimpse we
get of her), but it's easy for an observer to conclude that both her personality
and her whole quality of life have degenerated from the way they were when we
first saw her as a young stripper.

Maxine is at her best -- in terms of personal happiness and being in contact
with reality -- in the first of her guises, as the stripper. For example, when
She describes her relationship with her lover while artistic slides of lesbian
erotica flash on the screen behind her; and when she talks about the positive,
Supportive relationships between her and the other strippers. When she takes on
personal responsibility, she creates an image, an archetype, of the Goddess
within herself that gives her more power to control her own destiny.

The best words I can find to approximate the non-linear message "Naked
Women" conveys to its audience are: "Yes, there is something of the Great Triple
Goddess of mythology in every woman, and yes, she has great power against
male-supremacist religion and all of the authoritarian, exploitative social
institutions it has created, but be careful. The Goddess, like any archetype or
role-model, is something you create in your own mind as you use your existing
knowledge about the concept (learned from mythology and other outside sources)
to generalize from your life-experience and frame a personal myth or world-view.

TCR #1 -- 15

So when you create your own personal Goddess, be sure she's somebody you want
guiding your life from here on out."

SPIRITUAL REVOLUTION PRESS
Box 60327, Palo Alto, CA 94306-0327
'

Re Publications on the cutting y
1.

we edge of spiritual, political,
a & artistic radicalism. |
War in Heaven by Kyle Griffith
Cherotic Magic by Frank Moore

+ newsletters, audio & video tapes.

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7
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\ } ert a o anal

TCR #1 -- 16

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NONLINEAR BITS
by
FRANK MOORE

AN NONLINEAR POLITICAL COLUMN.

WE WENT TO THE MOVIES...PASOLINI'S ARABIAN NIGHTS AT BERKELEY'S ALTERNATIVE
THEATRE. EATING CANDY, DRINKING COKE, RUBBING EACH OTHER, PLEASURE MAINTAINED
ALMOST UNTIL THE END OF THE MOVIE, THEN QUIET COMING, THRILLING GENTLE PLEASURE
EXPLOSIONS. JUST AN ORDINARY NIGHT AT THE MOVIES. IT WAS FAR AWAY FROM THE BRAVE
NEW WORLD MORALITY COPS IN FLORIDA WHERE A GROWN MAN CAN BE ARRESTED AND LOSE HIS
CAREER FOR JACKING OFF IN A SEX MOVIE THEATRE...WHERE IT ISN'T SAFE TO MAKE LOVE
IN YOUR OWN BATHROOM OR BEDROOM BECAUSE YOU CAN BE ARRESTED, LOSE YOUR HOME, AND
BE HUMILIATED...WHERE PEEPING TOMS WITH VIDEO CAMERAS ARE HEROS AS LONG AS THEY
ARE ANTI-SEX AND HIDE BEHIND CHILDREN.

YES, OUR PLEASURE AT THE MOVIES WAS FAR AWAY FROM THE STATE OF MIND CALLED
FLORIDA. RUBBING FOR ENJOYMENT, JUST LIKE EATING POPCORN. TAKING PUBLIC REALITY
BACK INTO PERSONAL REALITY IS THE MAGICAL EFFECT OF SUCH PUBLIC ACTS, WHICH ARE
MADE INVISIBLE TO THE SURROUNDING REALITY BY THE PERSONAL EVERYDAY NATURE OF SUCH
ACTS, INSTEAD OF BEING REACTIVE CONFRONTATIONS. THE REASON CLOSEST TO THE SURFACE
FOR SUCH ACTS IN PUBLIC PLACES IS THE PHYSICAL EXPRESSION OF ENJOYING OF FRIENDS
AND LOVERS AND HUMANS JUST BEING TOGETHER. BUT THESE INVISIBLE PRIVATE/PUBLIC
ACTS OF PLEASURE BECOME A POWERFUL FORCE FOR EFFECTIVE POLITICAL/SOCIAL/CULTURAL
CHANGE WHEN THEY COLLIDE ON THEIR OWN WITH LIFE-DENIALS SUCH AS THE FLORIDA
STATE OF MIND. THE EFFECTIVENESS OF SUCH PERSONAL PLEASURE ACTS, WHICH ARE IN
REALITY SEXUAL OR CHEROTIC MAGIC, IS IN THE FACT THAT THEY ARE NOT REACTIVE,
CONFRONTATIONAL, OR AN EXHIBITION OF SPECIALNESS OR DIFFERENCE...NOT WRAPPING
OURSELVES IN THE GLAMOUR OF BEING KINKY, PERVERTED, OR EVIL AND THEREBY FALSELY
CREATING OURSELVES INTO AN ELITE ABOVE THE COMMON HUMAN. BEING REACTIONARY
ALWAYS CHAINS YOU TO THE OLD REALITY TO WHICH YOU ARE REACTING.

INSTEAD, THESE ACTS OF PERSONAL MAGIC ARE CREATING THE ALTERNATIVE REALITY
WHICH WE WANT, RECLAIMING FREEDOM BY ACTING FREE, CALLING FORTH YIN ENERGY BY
USING YIN ENERGY. THE FACT THAT THE FEMINIST MOVEMENT IN THE 70'S AND 80'S ON THE
WHOLE DIDN'T USE THIS CHANNEL OF CHANGE CREATED LIMITS TO THE TRANSFORMATION OF
GENDER,

TRACY'S DOING HER "NAKED WOMEN IN PUBLIC PLACES" PHOTOGRAPHIC SERIES IS
ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF THIS RECLAIMING PUBLIC REALITY, RETURNING IT TO PERSONAL
FREEDOM. WE HAVE DONE THESE RUBBING GOOD FEELING ACTS OF HUMANNESS AND
SUBVERSION AT BASEBALL GAMES, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SIDEWALK IN THE AFTERNOON,
ON TRAINS AND PLANES. FOR MONTHS, FIVE OF US SAT IN THE MIDDLE OF A
COFFEEHOUSE, PLAYING CARDS, DRINKING COFFEE, KISSING, RUBBING ONE ANOTHER INTO
A PLEASURE TRANCE. JUST EVERYDAY HUMAN LIVING. BECAUSE OUR ATTITUDE TO OUR
PLAYING IS THAT IT IS JUST EVERYDAY HUMAN LIVING, WE WERE INVISIBLE. NO ONE SAW,
NOTICED, OR COMPLAINED. BECAUSE THE ART OF INVISIBILITY IS TRICKY, I AM STOPPING
SHORT OF ADVOCATING SUCH RADICAL ACTS UNLESS YOU ARE PREPARED FOR ANY OUTCOME.
SUCH INVISIBLE ACTION DOES NOT HAVE TO BE AT THIS DEGREE OF REVOLUTIONARY
INTENSITY TO BE EFFECTIVE. EVERY TIME YOU KISS OR HUG OR LAUGH OR SMILE QUT IN
THE "PUBLIC" WORLD, EVERY TIME YOU WEAR COLORFUL SEXY REVEALING CLOTHES, OR DO
NOT WEAR A BRA (OR JUST WEARING ONE), OR ANY LUSTY JOYFUL ACT, YOU ARE PERFORMING
A VERY POWERFUL MAGICAL/POLITICAL ACTION OF WHICH EFFECTS CAN NOT BE DELETED BY
ANY LINEAR MEANS.

TCR #1 -- 18

I CANNOT LEAVE THE FLORIDA STATE OF MIND WITHOUT COMMENTING DIRECTLY ABOUT
THE PAUL REUBENS' CASE. I HAVE BEEN SEEING FREE PEEWEE BUTTONS AND SHIRTS. THEY
DID NOT ARREST PEEWEE. THEY ARRESTED PAUL. CBS USED THIS FALSELY COMBINING THE
ARTISTIC CREATION OF PEEWEE WITH THE REAL PERSON PAUL WHEN PULLING THE SHOW OFF
THE AIR. WE DO REUBENS NO FAVORS BY CONFUSING THE TWO REALITIES. CBS DID NOT CAN
THE SHOW FOR ANY LACK OF QUALITY OF THE SHOW OR ANY LACK IN THE RATINGS. THEY
CANNED THE SHOW BECAUSE THE MAN PAUL DID WHAT HE HAD A RIGHT TO DO...GOING TO A
SEX MOVIE AND JACKING-OFF4...AND GETTING CAUGHT BY THE MORALS PEEPING TOM COPS.
THEY CANNED THE SHOW BECAUSE THEIR PRODUCT HAD BEEN DAMAGED BY HUMAN SEX LIFE.

MY READERS WILL HAVE NO TROUBLE IN SHARING MY RIGHTEOUS OUTRAGE SO FAR. BUT
THE HARD PART IS COMING. WHAT HAPPENED TO REUBENS HAPPENED TO ANDY ROONEY AND
JIMMY THE GREEK NOT SO LONG AGO. THEY WERE FIRED AFTER THEY MADE RACIST STUPID
STATEMENTS, NOT DURING THEIR PROGRAMS, BUT IN THEIR PERSONAL LIVES...WHICH, IF
I AM NOT READING THE BILL OF RIGHTS WRONG, THEY HAVE THE RIGHT TO DO. THE
NETWORKS FIRED THEM FOR THE SIN OF POLITICAL INCORRECTNESS, FOR DAMAGING THE
CORPORATE IMAGE. I DON'T KNOW ABOUT JIMMY THE GREEK WELL ENOUGH. BUT I KNOW
ROONEY COULD HAVE BEEN FIRED LONG AGO FOR INANE ON-AIR COMMENTARIES. BUT WHEN
BUSINESS, GOVERNMENT, OR POLITICAL OR RELIGIOUS MOVEMENTS (BIG BROTHER IS BIG
BROTHER NO MATTER WHAT FORM IT TAKES) CAN FIRE ANYONE FOR ANY FORM OF SELF
EXPRESSION IN HIS PRIVATE LIFE, FREEDOM ITSELF IS KILLED FOR ALL OF US. PEEWEE
DID NOT JACK OFF IN HIS PLAYHOUSE. THE ADULT REUBENS DID WHAT HE DID IN HIS
PRIVATE LIFE.

THE CHEROTIC REVOLUTION IS AN EVOLUTIONARY MOVEMENT, AN ANARCHISTIC WAY OF
CHANGE, IN WHICH THE SINGLE PERSON IS THE CENTER OF CREATIVE FORCE. THIS DEMANDS
THE EQUAL ACCESS OF AND TO ALL IDEAS. THIS EQUAL ACCESS IS NOT A REALITY AS OF
YET. THIS IS PARTLY BECAUSE OF ECONOMIC AND MEDIA MONOPOLY AND CONTROL. BUT THE
MAIN REASON FOR THIS LACK OF EQUAL ACCESS OF AND TO ALL IDEAS AND IMAGES IS THE
TRYING BY ALL SIDES TO PROTECT THE INDIVIDUAL FROM BAD, HARMFUL, WRONG, SINFUL,
SEXIST, RACIST, OR OTHERWISE INCORRECT IDEAS AND IMAGES. SO INSTEAD OF DEMANDING
EQUAL ACCESS TO THE MEDIA, AND HENCE TO THE MINDS, EVERY SIDE IS DEMANDING THE
BANNING OF THE "INCORRECT" IDEAS AND IMAGES. SO, FOR AN EXAMPLE, INSTEAD OF
DEMANDING EQUAL ACCESS AND COVERAGE IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF ALL RELIGIOUS AND
NON-RELIGIOUS PHILOSOPHIES, THE SUBJECT IS A TABOO IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS. THE
UNDERLYING PREMISE OF THE CENSORING PROTECTION IS THE INDIVIDUAL IS NOT STRONG
ENOUGH OR WISE ENOUGH TO ULTIMATELY EJECT BAD IDEAS. FRANKLY, I NEED PEOPLE LIKE
JESSE HELMS. IF THE IDEAS, MAGIC, AND REALITY WHICH I REPRESENT ARE NOT STRONG
ENOUGH OR ATTRACTIVE ENOUGH TO SURVIVE IN AN EQUAL REALITY BATTLE OVER THOSE
WHICH ARE REPRESENTED BY HELMS, THEN WHAT I REPRESENT IS NOT WORTH SURVIVING.
I WILL ONLY FIGHT HELMS DIRECTLY WHEN HE TRIES TO DENY US ACCESS.

I SEE BY THE CLOCK ON THE COMPUTER SCREEN THAT IT IS TIME TO GO...AND I
HAVE NOT ADMITTED THAT I AM A LESBIAN IN A MALE BODY...OR WRITTEN ABOUT THE
DENYING PERSONAL CHOICE BY FORCING PEOPLE OUT OF THE CLOSET AGAINST THEIR WILL
BY SOME GAY PAPERS...OR ABOUT OUR BOYCOTT OF BLOCKBUSTER VIDEOS AND BRAVO CABLE
NETWORK FOR CENSORING PRACTICES. MAYBE NEXT TIME.

IBECAUSE OF THE SEX IRON CURTAIN, WE REALLY DO NOT KNOW WHAT REUBENS
ACTUALLY DID OR WHY HE DID IT.

TCR #1 -- 19

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CHEROTIC LICENSE
by
LUNA GRIFFITH

I'm postulating that "cherotic license" is directly interconnected to the
natural force of evolution. Chero = chi' (life force) + eros (love, beauty,
sensuality). When defining Chero we can't limit ourselves to the contemporary
(and often cynical) definition of erotic, but we can't exclude it either. We
have to assume that a cherotic license works just like any concept of "license"
(both in the sense of "poetic license" and in the legal/social sense of
permission to do something) in that it can be taken away from someone who misuses
it.

If it is true that cherotic license is directly interrelated with the
evolutionary force, then we can also postulate that it follows the basic rules
(ideals) of “form and function" -- the natural law that says the giraffe
developed a long neck because it was always reaching up to eat tree leaves. In
other words, that people who use their cherotic license will find life more
fulfilling and ultimately more real, which takes them further along the scale of
evolutionary development. And also that we as cherotic artisans are acting as
agents of the evolutionary force each and every time we push forward the limits
of our cherotic perception.

For the time being the accepted truth is that "beasts abstract not", and
that it is often an understatement to say humans do. While our use of
imagination does set us apart from the nonhuman life forms, our imagination can
function even if we are not interconnected with the evolutionary force. We can
see the evidence of this around us -- people using their intelligence to create
industry that poisons them with pollution, etc.

Recalling Plato's "divided line," the realm of "Imago" is the lowest and
least desirable state of consciousness to live in, compared to the realm of the
"Logos" that is in harmony with "The Architect" (the evolutionary force). Of
course, Plato makes a distinction between the imagination and the Logos, but for
all practical purposes, we can only perceive the Logos with our imagination ...
that is, if we can perceive it at all.

Peter Stenshoel writes in "The Nature of UD": "...I am not condemning
popular art. I am pointing out the danger inherent in allowing popular art to
take the place of the far richer antecedents each culture brought with it. Pop
distills from the artist the essence of unsatisfiable desire! ....the nature of
pop culture today: the very disposableness of it; indicates a lack of faith in
nor concern for the future, and this bodes danger."

If we can use the imagination in harmony with the evolutionary force and be
responsible enough to reject the seductions of the UD force, then we'll at least
be on the right track. But how can we know when we are awake and creating
reality, and when we are merely dreaming, creating a casual self-delusion through
wishful thinking?

— Qne might call the dividing line between reality-creation and wishful
thinking (which is also the boundary between Plato's Imago and Logos) the "PC
Rubicon." People who think their exercise of cherotic license has to fit their
existing definition of what is "politically correct" automatically create a
Rubicon that can never be crossed in reality. A Rubicon that is entirely within

TCR #1 -- 21

the realm of mesmerism, illusion and mind-control. A Rubicon created and
delineated by total insanity.

Later in his article, Stenshoel goes on to say: "...Now, something must be
Said about the origins of UD. As a force, UD is quite real. Remember what we
said about UD art (popular or disposable art) is brought on by the voice that
always looks for gain. That voice is a victim, or adjunct, of UD. Because, in
never being satisfied, that psychological construct, or voice, looks to more,
bigger, and better, for relief. And, in doing so, creates more UD. The cycle
is a tornado or whirlpool, and very hard to break. In fact, it hasn't ever been
broken since its start-up in modern times. It has been slowed, and there's a
good chance it can be driven away, but unfortunately with probably much cost.
The force can be personified only to the extent that the force holds in its sway
personalities. It's real people doing things they shouldn't. However, the
phenomenon is best seen as a naturally occurring phenomenon, such as a tornado.
Eventually, the winds change. The destructive force dies down. In the meantime,
however, one can be sucked into the destructive cycle."

The most common way people get caught up into the UD cycle is by letting
their natural desires become obsessions. Instead of merely wanting to feel
youthful and vigorous, they become believers in a cult of eternal youth. Instead
of simply wanting to look their best, they become obsessed with abstract concepts
of beauty. Instead of wanting material things so they can enjoy them, they turn
to desiring the abstraction "wealth."

Eventually, they fall totally under the control of this UD insanity and its
inevitable consequences: perfectionism, classism and the need for dominance in
everything they do. One of the easiest ways to identify people with this “UD
disease" is their preoccupation with the regulation of bodily functions -- their
own and everyone else's. This is the true origin of the present “health
consciousness" fad -- it's really just an obsessive pursuit of unsatisfiable
desires.

And this, in turn, leads people across the PC Rubicon, into endless debates
over who is a politically correct "real" human and eventually into a form of
self-inflicted genocide or slavery. Or better yet, let's call a spade a spade -
- it makes them totally suicidal, but always in ways that are "PC," such as
"eating disorders," “substance abuse," “occupational stress," “relationship
dysfunction," etc. In the big picture, everyone in this category is out of
contact with the evolutionary force. The only alternative is to avoid the PC
Rubicon and cross the boundary into Plato's Logos.

Here's what Peter's sources have to say about this: "...In the meantime
(while this destructive cycle is still collectively in motion), try to become as
eclectic as possible -- study everything, or shall I say, enjoy everything.
There's no need to stop absorbing pop art. Only ask yourself, like Zippy, ‘Am
I having fun yet?' Is a piece of art providing you with fulfillment... or just
a sense of unsatisfiable desire? Will you want to peruse this art again in ten
years... twenty? Is it an authentic product of human hearts and minds or is it
a product calculated to produce a better-looking sale chart for some UD-driven
executive? The more UD he can sell you, the more UD he'll crave, and
consequently, the more UD he'll create to sell you. Don't get stuck."

Human imagination is dangerous and should be treated in the same manner that
everything non-linear and "yin" should be treated -- it is a powerful magical
force that automatically creates reality whenever it operates. Seeing
imagination in this light should also make us realize that it may have functions

TCR #1 -- 22

and a purpose that we are unaware of. It may have timing and cycles and needs
that we have not synchronized with. It is common knowledge that the mind,
through the use of the imagination, can bypass commands in the brain in order to
get the body to do something. For example, the imagination can conjure up an
erotic ideal that then tells the body to respond with sexual excitement,
completely bypassing the need of any of the five senses to have physically sensed
the erotic ideal -- no pheromones or heat-cycles necessary.

It may be true that "the unheard melodies are the sweetest, " but if we agree
with this, then we must qualify what realm we are in when we "hear" them.
Continuing to use Plato's divided-line, one would say that if you have not
reached the Logos, if you are merely fantasizing about the melodies within the
realm of the Imago, then what you are doing is entirely in vain. But if you are
in the Logos, your imagination can truly work magic, can create reality instead
of illusion.

This is what "Cherotic License" is really all about -- allowing yourself to
let go of your preconceptions of what reality fits your "desired ideal" (which
is always, simply by being idealized, also unsatisfiable) or your idea of what
is "politically correct" (which is always a product of the Imago). Your cherotic
license will take you places much more exotic than any "UD" obsession could --
beyond the realm Plato calls the Logos, into what Cherotic Magic calls the "Web
of All Possibilities."

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TCR #1 -- 23

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FRANK's letter to BRENDA TATELBAUM -- April 24, 1991

WHEN I READ IN the cherotic revolutionary #0 THE DIALOGUE THAT YOU AND MY
LETTERS HAVE GENERATED...WHEN I READ THE DIALOGUE ALL TOGETHER INSTEAD OF IN
PIECES, I AM AMAZED AND IMPRESSED AT THE POWER OF IT. WHAT IS EMERGING BY
LINKING PEOPLE LIKE YOU, KYLE AND LUNA, TUPPY, BRENDA McCANN, LINDA AND MICHAEL
AND ME, AND OTHERS WHO WILL JOIN THE DIALOGUE IN THE FUTURE IS A REDEFINING AND
ENLARGING OF THE LANGUAGE OF CHANGE AND OF REALITY.

WE SENT YOU THE GREAT REVIEW OF cherotic magic BY BARBARA SMITH. EVEN IF
YOU USE HER REVIEW RATHER THAN A REVIEW BY YOU IN eidos, I WOULD GET GREAT
PERSONAL VALUE FROM HEARING IN MORE DETAIL WHAT YOU THOUGHT/FEEL ABOUT cm.

I AM HOPING the cherotic revolutionary WILL GET INTO THE HANDS OF THE YOUNG
ANARCHISTS OF WHICH WE HAVE TALKED ABOUT BEFORE, AS WELL AS INTO THE HANDS OF
SEASONED MAGICIANS AND CULTURAL/SEXUAL SUBVERSIVES.

IT WOULD BE USEFUL TO TALK ABOUT THE INNER CALLING AND INNER COMMITMENT
NEEDED IN THIS LINE OF WORK/PLAY. MOST OF THE STUDENTS I GET ARE ATTRACTED TO
THIS ALTERED CULTURE, THIS MAGICAL REALITY, FOR VARIOUS REASONS. LUNA SAYS IT
IS LIKE WHITES GOING TO BLACK JAZZ CLUBS. IT IS LIKE READING A NOVEL. MOST OF
MY STUDENTS CHOOSE THIS MAGICAL REALITY...THEY MAKE A COMMITMENT TO IT FOR A
TIME. I DID NOT HAVE A CHOICE. I JUST HAD TO DO/BE THIS EVEN THOUGH I DID NOT
KNOW WHAT THIS WAS, WHERE IT WOULD LEAD...EVEN IF IT LOOKED BAD OR DUMB. 1 HAD
NO CHOICE...SO THAT I COULD NOT UNCHOOSE IT...I WAS NOT LOOKING AT MY OPTIONS AT
EVERY TURN OR CARED ABOUT WHAT IT LOOKED LIKE...BECAUSE I HAD TO DO IT EVEN WHEN
I WOULD RATHER NOT DO IT. I HAD TO BECAUSE IF I DID NOT I WOULD BE IN AN
UNREALITY. I WAS CALLED. I THINK THERE IS A DEFINITE PLACE IN THE MAGICAL
MOVEMENT FOR THE PEOPLE WHO CHOOSE, COMMIT TO, THE ALTERED REALITY. BUT THERE
IS SOMETHING EXTREMELY MORE FRAGILE WITH THIS KIND THAN THE CALLED ONES WHO HAVE
NO CHOICE, WHO ARE OBSESSED. I DO NOT MEAN FANATICS, WILD-EYED AND OUT OF TOUCH.
I MEAN THE MISFITS WHO CANNOT FIGURE OUT HOW NOT TO LIVE A STRANGE VISION. THE
PROBLEM WITH THE ILLUSION OF CHOICE IS NOT THE ONES WHO ARE ALWAYS LOOKING TO
MAKE A BETTER REALITY MOVE. THE REAL PROBLEM OF THE ILLUSION OF CHOICE IS THAT
IT MAKES THE MISFITS WHO HAVE NO CHOICE THINK THEY ARE WEAK OR STUPID FOR NOT
HAVING A CHOICE.

ALL THE ABOVE IS A PREFACE TO ASKING YOU HOW DID A NICE, SMART WOMAN LIKE
YOU START PUBLISHING A PAPER LIKE eidos? DID YOU HAVE A CHOICE? HOW CAN YOU
BUCK THE SOCIAL IMAGES OF WHAT YOU SHOULD BE FOR SO MANY YEARS? WHAT IS THE
CALLING VISION THAT HAS YOU UNDER ITS SPELL? AS YOU SEE, KYLE/LUNA'S GIVING ME
A MAGAZINE HAS BROUGHT OUT THE JOURNALIST IN ME. BUT THIS ISSUE OF INNER CALLING
HAS BEEN AS MUCH SUPPRESSED AS THE FULL CHERO RANGE OF WHICH SEX IS BUT ONE MODE.
AND IT HAS BEEN SUPPRESSED FOR THE SAME REASON. THE SUPPRESSION CREATES A
SHALLOWNESS, AN ISOLATION, AND AN INEFFECTIVENESS ON THE PERSONAL LEVEL.

WHAT IS SUBSTITUTED FOR THE INNER CALLING IS AN OUTER COMMITMENT TO,
AN OUTER CHOICE OF, A TREND OR A MOVEMENT BASED ON INDIVIDUAL GROWTH, INDIVIDUAL
COMFORT, INDIVIDUAL FUTURE, INDIVIDUAL IMAGE. DOES NOT WHAT YOU DO OFTEN TAKE
YOU INTO SITUATIONS WHICH AT THE LEAST DO NOT APPEAR TO BE IN YOUR INDIVIDUAL
BEST INTEREST...NOT THE BEST EXPERIENCE? BEING OUTWARDLY COMMITTED IS NOT A
SOLID BASE FROM WHICH THE PERSON CAN CREATE. WHEN I WENT TO ART SCHOOL, THE
BASIC QUESTION WAS ALWAYS WHAT WILL BE THE NEXT TRENDS TO WHICH IT WOULD BE SMART
TO COMMIT...NOT DO YOU HAVE THE CALLING TO BE AN ARTIST...AND WHY DO YOU NEED T0
BE AN ARTIST?

TCR #1 -- 24

LAST WEEK, A JOURNALISM GRAD STUDENT FROM U.C. BERKELEY SHOT A VIDEO OF US
FOR A "60 MINUTES" KIND OF STATE-WIDE CABLE T.V. SHOW. HE WAS A NICE GUY, BUT
SHAPED COMPLETELY BY THE CONTEXT OF THE TIMES. HE IS DOING TELEJOURNALISM
BECAUSE THAT IS THE WAVE OF THE FUTURE. HE IS DEEPER THAN THIS OR HE WOULD NOT
HAVE CHOSEN ME AS HIS STORY. BUT THE CONTEXT OF THE TIMES DENIES HIM THIS DEPTH,
DENIED HIM A CALLING, GIVING HIM INSTEAD CHOICES. DURING THE WEEK OF SHOOTING,
I TWISTED HIS OWN REALITY AROUND SO THAT HE COULD NOT PLAY THE MYTH OF THE
OBJECTIVE REPORTER. YESTERDAY, HE SAID HE NOW CAN SEE THAT THIS MYTH WAS A FALSE
LIMITATION.

UNTIL THE EARLY 80s, I WOULD GO UP TO STRANGERS ON THE STREET, OR ON THE
CAMPUS, AND ASK THEM TO LET ME VIDEO THEM AT MY HOME PLAYING DRESS-UP WITH
STRANGE SEXY COSTUMES, OR OTHER SUCH PERFORMANCES. MOST PEOPLE WENT BEYOND THE
SOCIAL TABOOS TO CHILD-LIKE FUN OR OTHER INTENSE EMOTIONAL STATES. MY VIDEO,
erotic play, DOCUMENTS THIS. SOME EROPLAYED WITH ME OR EACH OTHER. BUT BY THE
MID-80s, IT GOT HARDER AND HARDER TO GET PEOPLE FOR REASONS THAT WE HAVE
DISCUSSED. I FINALLY STOPPED THIS DIRECT PUBLIC ACTION WHEN TWO PEOPLE IN A ROW,
AFTER READING A GLOWING village voice REVIEW OF ONE OF MY PERFORMANCES, TURNED
TO ME AND SAID, "SOUNDS LIKE PORN." IF THINGS HAD GOTTEN THAT UPTIGHT, WHY
BOTHER TAKING THAT KIND OF SHIT?

ANYWAY, BRAD, THE JOURNALIST, WANTED TO SHOOT ME IN ACTION. SO WE WENT UP
TO CAMPUS TO SHOOT ME GOING UP TO PEOPLE. I ASKED BRAD IF HE WANTED TO SHOOT
SOMEBODY PLAYING DRESS-UP IF I COULD GET SOMEONE TO AGREE. HE THOUGHT IT WAS
UNLIKELY, BUT SURE. TO HIS IMPRESSED SURPRISE, THE FIRST PERSON I APPROACHED
EAGERLY SAID YES.

WE HAVE COME TO WHY I AM TELLING THE STORY. THE PERSON WAS A HISTORY GRAD
STUDENT...OPEN, LIBERAL. SHE SEES HERSELF THIS WAY. SHE FELT A TRUST TOWARDS
ME. BUT WHEN SHE CAME OVER TO PLAY DRESS-UP, SHE COULD NOT REALLY PLAY WITH THE
CLOTHES, COULD NOT REMOTELY LOSE HERSELF IN FUN AND PLAYING. TAKING HER CLOTHES
OFF WAS NOT A REMOTE POSSIBILITY...SHE HAD A HARD TIME TAKING HER OUTER SHIRT
OFF. ALL OF THIS WAS TO BE EXPECTED IN THE PRESENT CULTURAL FRAME...ALTHOUGH
IT WEIRDED HER OUT BECAUSE IT CONFLICTED TOTALLY WITH HER SELF-IMAGE OF BEING
FREE AND OPEN. THE REALLY SHOCKING AND DISTURBING THING TO US WAS...THERE WAS
A 1940s PINK SILKY/SATINY ANKLE-LENGTH NIGHTGOWN. SHE WAS ATTRACTED TO IT...BUT
AT THE SAME TIME TREATED IT IN THE SAME WAY A VAMPIRE WOULD HANDLE A CROSS
SMEARED WITH GARLIC. FOR HER, THE NIGHTGOWN WAS A SYMBOL OF THE FORBIDDEN
OBJECTIFIED WOMAN OF THE FUNDAMENTALIST/FEMINISTS. IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT SHE
WANTED TO TRY IT ON...THAT SHE LIKED IT...BUT SHE COULD NOT PUT IT ON EVEN OVER
HER STREET CLOTHES. SHE FEARED THAT JUST BY PUTTING ON THE NIGHTGOWN, AS A
SYMBOL, SHE WOULD BE TRANSFORMED INTO THE OBJECTIFIED WOMAN. THIS MAGIC WHICH
THE FUNDAMENTALIST/FEMINISTS HAVE UNLEASHED IS AT LEAST AS IMPRISONING AS THE
MAGIC WHICH CONTROLS THE SEXISTS. OF COURSE, IT IS THE SAME FUNDAMENTALIST MAGIC
DRESSED UP IN TWO FORMS. OUR CHALLENGE IS TO SWITCH THE MAGICAL FORCE AROUND SO
THAT WOMEN, ALL PEOPLE CAN FREELY PLAY WITH ALL SYMBOLS. ONLY IN THIS WAY WILL
WOMEN, ALL PEOPLE, NOT BE UNDER THE CONTROLLING POWER OF SYMBOLS.

TCR #1 -- 25

BRENDA's reply to FRANK - -- May 5, 1991

Your 4/24 letter has arrived at a precisely pivotal point in time as our
newest EIDOS issue went to press last Friday with our review of Cherotic Magic
in it. I hope you're not disappointed with our more descriptive and
informational presentation of CM to our readers and I'm sure we'll receive
additional feedback and commentary about CM from them in their future letters to
EIDOS. Naturally, we wish THE CHEROTIC REVOLUTIONARY a long and healthy life and
rt ala you and everyone involved with the effort behind launching Issue

QO!!!

[I recognize that your choice of terminology to describe yourself, your work
and worldview significantly differs from my own use of the language. Quite
honestly, my repertoire has never similarly included "anarchists", "magicians".
"cultural/sexual subversives", “altered culture", “altered reality", "magical
reality", "misfits", etc. but, like yourself I ama "called one": I was "called"
to my work and "had no choice" “even though I did not know where it would lead"
"even if it looked bad". Bizarre? Or perhaps a little bit like "Close
Encounters of the Third Erotic Kind"?

For me, my mission with EIDOS has evolved naturally and progressively --
corresponding to the unfolding chain of my life's events. Although I had always
been a published writer and poet, it wasn't until close to my separation (after
12 years of marriage and two children) that, in 1982, I began writing and self-
publishing erotic "women's" poetry and giving live readings to audiences of women
and men at local colleges and bookstores. With the public's support and
encouragement, I then decided to include the publication of erotic poetry, art,
photography and fiction by like-minded others and thus EIDOS was born. The
Premier issue rolled of the presses in January, 1984.

Obviously, my very own deeply-rooted erotosexual repression and feelings of
female persecution and oppression led to my creating and publicly sharing my
erotic poetry with others and, ultimately, to the founding of EIDOS. Those were
the days of the rising-tide of draconian Reagan-Bush right-wing ideology but now
I look back in retrospect at the risk I took and simply say, "I acted according
to the dictates of my conscience. I had no choice." Therefore, I totally
understand and relate to your concept of "inwardly committed" as opposed to
"outwardly committed".

As a single woman journeying alone through the aftermath of divorce (with
all the concomitant custodial responsibilities for parenting two small children
and maintaining a household) these overwhelming negative-forces were magnified
a thousand-fold but I channeled them into a positive, life-affirming force. At
the time, however, I was completely unaware that, world-wide, women and men of
all erotosexual/sexuerotic orientations, preferences and lifestyles were
Similarly living with such inner turmoil and tribulation.

Frankly, it wasn't until August 1985 that my personal/professional mission
became political. At that time, the "trusted" elected officials (three
conservative male selectmen) in the town of Milton, MA (where I live) sent the
plainclothes police to my home (without a warrant) to order me to "cease &
desist" from publishing EIDOS from the privacy of my own home. They claimed I
was violating a town zoning bylaw (which I wasn't) prohibiting the operation of
home-based business enterprises. Their disguised, deliberate attempt at
censorship was possibly directed at garnering votes during an election year or,
as they readily admitted to the electronic and print media, to shut EIDOS down

TCR #1 -- 26

and run me out of town. In any event, their witchhunt failed as did their
attempt to publicly disgrace and humiliate me. Eventually they backed off and
EIDOS fortunately still continues. In '85, as in '82, an overwhelmingly
Supportive public (both on the local level and nationally) telephoned and wrote
letters of encouragement -- less than a year before the publication of the
Justice Department's 1986 Final Report of the Attorney General's Commission on
Pornography (the Meese Commission )!!!

In your letter you speak of having "twisted" a journalism student's
"reality around" and say he recognized "myth" as a "false limitation". From my
perspective, you were engaging in consciousness-raising and it worked!! How very
excellent!!!

The bottom line is that EIDOS affirms the reality of our basic human right
to sexual freedom: the right to choose in all areas of sexual life and
lifestyle; our basic human right to be free from coercion by governments or
individuals; our basic human right to free speech, a free press, freedom of/from
religion and the right to privacy as well as other rights and freedoms including
the right to personal property and to pursue political goals. Obviously these
high-minded concepts are the basis of our secular laws and government and are
incorporated into our Declaration of Human Rights.

However, we acknowledge the additional need to further reform the
inequities inherent in our society's traditional social, moral and political
infrastructures, Therefore, with EIDOS readers in all 50 states (and 57
countries overseas) from all legal age ranges, educational and income levels and
occupations, we at EIDOS are of the firm belief that, in time, an invisible
global grassroots networking movement of real everyday people will eventually
transform millennia of authoritarian, dogmatic, sex-negative erotophobic self-
loathing indoctrination into a rational, enlightened, free-thinking world
community which values, accepts and ratifies, as holistic, the pluralism of
democratic multisexualism.

In conclusion, would my use of the words "propaganda" or "mind (thought)
control" or "brainwashing" be synonymous with your use of the word "magic" when
describing the so-called "open, liberal, history" female grad student's self-
image conflict upon her confrontation with the 1940's pink silky/satiny ankle-
length nightgown?

I look forward to furthering our definition of terms!

Yours in freedom

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TCR #1 -- 27

DEAR BOB,

LIKE MYSELF, BOTH CROWLEY AND GURDJIEFF WERE
TRYING TO EXPLORE THE PRACTICAL MAGICAL DYNAMICS IN
THE CONTEXT OF THE EVERYDAY PHYSICAL REALITY RATHER
THAN IN THE CONTEXT OF THE ABSTRACT SPIRITUAL
DIMENSION IN WHICH MOST MAGICIANS HAD TRIED TO WORK.
THEY SAW MAGIC (OR MAGICK) AS A SCIENCE OF THE
NONLINEAR EFFECTS OF THE DYNAMIC RELATIONSHIP OF
RESPONSIBLE PERSONAL ACTION. THEY TRIED, MORE OR
LESS, TQ PUT THIS MAGICAL SCIENCE INTO WHAT WAS IN
THEIR TIME THE MODERN WESTERN CULTURAL FRAME. ALL OF
THIS IS WHAT I AM ATTEMPTING TO DO.

BUT BOTH CROWLEY AND GURDJIEFF, FOR VARIOUS
REASONS, HID THE MAGICAL SCIENCE IN COMPLEX AND
GLAMOROUS RITUAL AND INTELLECTUAL SYSTEMS, FULL OF
FUNHOUSE MIRRORS, MISLEADING INFORMATION, AND LONG
DEAD-END ALLEYS. WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO IS GET THE
MAGIC SCIENCE AS CLEARLY AND AS DOWN-TO-EARTH IN
WRITING AS POSSIBLE. UNFORTUNATELY, THE POSSIBILITY
OF THIS IS VERY LIMITING BECAUSE WRITING IS LINEAR
AND THE MAGICAL SCIENCE IS NONLINEAR. THIS IS WHY I
ALSO WORK IN EXPERIENTIAL REALITY SHAPING SUCH AS
APPRENTICESHIPS AND PERFORMANCES (BOTH PUBLIC AND
PRIVATE). BECAUSE SUCH REALITY SHAPING IS PHYSICAL,
IT CAN CONTAIN NONLINEAR INFORMATION.

IF YOU WANT TO GET TOGETHER TO TALK, I WILL BE
BACK HOME FROM A LECTURE/PERFORMANCE TOUR IN THE
SECOND HALF OF OCTOBER.

YOURS,
FRANK

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Frank Moore’s _ cherotic magic BY FRANK MOORE IS A MAJOR INCOPENETICL Cs

new bool ATTEMPT TO INTRODUCE A POWERFUL SYSTEM for $3 is the
: _ OF MAGIC INTO OUR MODERN WESTERN EVERY- premiere issue of

cherotic magic DAY LIFE, THEREBY EXPLOSIVELY EXPANDING The Cherotic

. : SUCH CONCEPTS AS SEX, HUMAN RELATION- Revolutionary,
is available SHIPS. THE CLEAR, DOWN-TO-EARTH TEXT the magazine

iy eS IS AMPLIFIED BY THE NONLINEAR TRANCE about the edge.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY LABASH.

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Copyright 1990 by Frank Moore

TCR #1 --

30

WAITING FOR US,
WAITING OUTSIDE
OF HIDDEN MAGICAL KINGDOMS

OF, HUMAN WARM IMAGINATION,
HOT PASSIONS,

POETIC OCCULT KINGDOMS RULED

BY MASTER JAMES.

WAITING FOR US,
SITTING QUTSIDE THE GATES OF

JAZZ,
SITTING ON
THE TRAVELING FEEL-GOOD SHOW,
TAPPING
A TIPTOE

SOFTSHOE PAW
ON THE SAWDUST BOARDSTAGE,
WAITING FOR THE STRIPPERS AND TOP BANANAS.

WAITING IS THE OZ LION,
THE AWE LION,

THE LION OF TWO BODIES,

TWO FACES,

TWO VOICES SINGING TOGETHER

IN RAW BEAUTIFUL FUNNY CHAOS.

ALWAYS WAITING TO SING FROM THE

CAVEFIRES
TO ROAMING AROUND MEDIEVAL LANDSCAPES
TO THE AMERICAN
BADLANDS
TO SPEAKEASIES
TO RADIOWAVES.
WAITING TO DANCE AND SING

WITH ITS YINYANG BODY AND VOICE,
TAPPING CHAOS,

SINGING RAW HUMAN
PASSION AND HUMOR.
RELEASING DEPTHS,
RELEASING OTHER VOICES,
ALL POET VOICES,
NOT JUST ITS OWN TWO.
THE LION GRAVELING ROARING
PASSION VOICE
AND THE WOMAN WARM DEADPAN VOICE
DANCE TAPPING,
DANCING ON AND IN EACH OTHER,
DANCING A MAGICAL RITUAL,
CARRYING
US INTO A GIGGLING TRANCE,
A FEELING GIGGLING DANCE TRANCE.

WE ARE DANCING WITH
TWO-VOICED TWO-BODIED LION OF OZ,
OF AWE,

OF JUST LOVE.

WE DON'T NEED TO BE

A DANCER TO DANCE,

A SINGER TO

SING,

A POET TO FEEL.

JUST DANCE WITH

THIS BAGGYPANTS LION, DANCE
INTO THE DEEP HUMAN PASSION,

DEEP HUMAN HUMOR.

TCR #1 -- 31

"THERE IS A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD" -- BROUGHTON FOUNTAIN
by
JACK FOLEY

First Published in Exquisite Corpse

The Master stood on the edge of the cliff. He asked which of his disciples would
thrust himself over the side, plunging into the mouth of a horrible and certain
death. "I," said one, eager to get a running start. "Wait," said the Master.
"Do you think I'm some sort of idiot? I was only raising an abstract question.
I need all the disciples I can get -- and, besides, it's a long way down the side
of that cliff." "True," said the eager disciple. “But wouldn't you always honor
the name of the disciple who died for you!" "Well, I might," said the Master,
"but really it all depends on whether I've written it down. My memory's a little
shaky these days, and I can't seem to locate my pencil!" "Master," said the
disciple, "I would be the one who died for you!" "Well, go ahead if you must,
" said the Master, fumbling in his pockets for a piece of paper. "But I'm not
guaranteeing anything. Oh where is that pencil!" “Thank you, Master. Aieeeee!"
said the disciple as he leaped over the edge. "What was his name?" said the
Master. "I suppose," said another disciple, “there isn't much left of him now."
The disciples looked at each other silently. The wind sprang up. They were
suddenly filled with a strange ecstasy. "Aieeeee," they began to say, "“aieeee,
aieeeee," and made for the edge of the cliff. "Hey, wait a minute," said the
Master, “whose disciples are you anyway, mine or his?" "Why, yours of course,"
said the disciples, stopping in their tracks. "That's better," said the Master.
"You should at least look before you leap. It's been a rather bad year for
disciples you know, and I'd just as soon have you stay a--" But before the
Master was able to say the word live, the disciple who had leapt over the cliff
suddenly appeared in front of him, looking only a little the worse for wear.
"Ajieeeee," said the Master, "what are you doing here?" "I'm back," said the
disciple. "Death really isn't all it's cracked up to be." "You -- died!" said
the Master. "Yes," said the disciple. "But what was it like?" "Not too bad,
you know, nothing much really. A bit of a splat at the bottom. Otherwise fit
as a fiddle actually." "But you've seen what no one else has ever seen and come
back to talk of." "Well, yes, I suppose I have." “Won't you tell us about it?"
"Well, all right. I saw--" But at this point a strong wind suddenly sprang up
and lifted the seemingly solid body of the disciple up into the air like a leaf.
His body seemed to collapse upon itself, to fold inward, to become nothing,
nothing but a piece of scattered debris upon the wind. "Master," came the cry,
"Master, Master--" Then nothing. "He must have had a name," said the Master.
"Perhaps it was James. That certainly was a strong wind!" "Master," said
another disciple, "could we leave this place?" "Yes, yes," said the Master, "I'm
not enjoying it very much myself. Let's go." But then they realized that it was
night and they couldn't go. They couldn't descend the mountain in darkness.
"Oh, Fudge," said the Master as another burst of wind took his hat over the side
of the cliff. "I was very fond of that hat too." "Fonder than you were of me,
I sometimes think," came the voice. It was James. "Good lord, you're back
again." "Yes," said James, "You know, it's better the second time around. The
first time you have problems with that awful dog." "Did you get bitten?" "Not
the second time!" "But James, how do you manage it? -- dying and resurrecting,
dying and resurrecting." "Don't know, really. I suppose it's just a sort of
talent." "Indeed. Can you make my hat come back?" "Doubt it. I'll try.
Mmmmph, mmmmph, nothing much there." "You can only resurrect...yourself?"
"Well, now, I don't know. It is possible..." “What?" "It is possible...You
know, Master I had a terrible childhood." "What has that got to do with it?"
"Beatings, always complaints--ah, here I go again!" The wind sprang up and James

TCR #1 -- 32

was off again into the night. "What stars, Master," he said, "What stars! I
wish I could take you with me. It's wonderful here!" It was morning now. As
the Master looked around him he saw that his disciples had all vanished. There
was nothing there but the mountain and the sky. He opened his mouth and began
to speak:

My name is James Richard Broughton. I was born in the
valley town of Modesto on Nov. 10, 1913. I come from
a place of indescribable sweetness.

The wind sprang up again. "Master," said James, "we have the same name. Come!
Come!" The Master looked up. His body seemed at one solid and -- light. "This
is It," he thought, "This is really It." "Now," said James, holding out his hand
to the Master, "now." A shock of electricity shuddered between them. "IS NOW
THIS IT HERE?" said the Master, "I'm fly-ing!" And he was. "You see," said
James, "There isn't even this mountain." "Certainly not this mountain," said
James, "There is something, though." "What is it?" "How can I put it? Night
and day, day and night -- I sound like an old song. The indescribable sweetness
of being alive!" They reeled through the air, covering distance upon distance.
Finally they lit down on a tiny island off the coast of Asia. "We are one,
Master," said James, "we have merged." "Yes," said James, "it's true. I can't
tell us apart anymore." "We are Master and Disciple, Master, Disciple and
Master. We are moth and flame. We are one. Wondrous the merge!" "But what
about us?" came a voice. "Yes," said another, "what about us?" "Oh, them," said
the Master. It was all the other disciples hovering in the air. "I'm afraid you
will have to find your own mountains," said James. "We can't find them for you.
It's been a very complicated life we've had to lead. Follow your bliss!" The
two James Richards waved to the creatures in the air. "Poor things," they
thought, "poor sweetings. We would give them blood if we could." It was dawn
again. Master and disciple shivered a little in the chill as the sun at last
came up. "Camera!" said James, “Lights! I love the movies!

--My name is James*.

There is nothing
But the indestructible sweetness
Of

Everything! Follow your weird."

TCR #1 -- 33

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SOMETHING'S GOING ON!

by
DOROTHY JESSE BEAGLE

Copyrighted 1989 by Dorothy Jesse Beagle

Frank Moore at Cafe Milano Poetry Series -- Berkeley, CA -- June 5, 1988

(Notes written the evening after the poetry performance)

The patrons

at Cafe Milano

took the stairs

two at a time,

"What on earth was going on
upstairs

an orgy?"

Strange sounds and curtain
Sealing off

the Sunday night Poetry
where, some Said,

poets, gay and straight
famous and infamous

and slightly known

ranted and raved

but never like this!

Some spoke softly,
beautiful imagery,

One man bellowed, didn't need
a microphone,

but we paid them no mind;
we came to Cafe Milano

for coffee

let the mad poets have the upstairs,
we pay them no mind

Until tonight

Is it an orgy?

from the sound of it,

from the secrecy (drawn curtains)

"Something's going on."

What -a disappointment!

"What are they doing?

I was just having coffee
downstairs
and came to look."

"You look, you pay," said Adelle

Two minutes passed (after the
downstairs patrons paid)

"Can I please have my money back?"

Then made a hasty retreat,

from

This celebration of life,

a cacophony of people (musical)
interwoven,

a pulsating silver montage,

literally entwined with the
poet, they were

the poet

sorcerer of innocence

("I am old fashioned!")

weaving a Silver montage

and one playful child

emerged ONE

TCR #1 -- 35

A silver montage and cinematic
intermittent flashes of flesh
and joy/the soul of the poem revealed
as the words were spoken.
The audience of now-one became

a lover

a child

a baby, held in love.

NOTE: An evening of poetry by Frank Moore performed through dance, touching,
sound flickering light, strips of cellophane and shiny foil wrappings,
and ... nudity (slightly amended for Cafe Milano) ... sensuous, womb-like,
beyond sex"

"Eroplay"

TCR #1 -- 36

00 CONTROVERSIA

FOR THE BAY AREA

CANNOT FIND A PLACE TO PERFORM
IN THE BAY AREA

AMONG THE CTIES/PLACES MOORE HAS | PERFORMED/LECTURED:

“TRANSFORMATIVE...” MOORE “IS
THWARTING NATURE IN AN ASTONISH-
ING MANNER, AND IS FUSING ART,
RITUAL AND RELIGION IN WAYS THE
EUROCENTRIC WORLD HAS ONLY DIM
MEMORIES OF. ESPOUSING A KIND
odo. OF PAGANISM WITHOUT BITE AND

_ <3 AGGRESSION, FRANK MOORE |S
aS INDEED WORTH WATCHING.”
HIGH PERFORMANCE MAGAZINE

OF FRANK MOORE'S fe
PERFORMANCE WORK: fie

“SURELY WONDERFUL AND MIND-
GOOSING EXPERIENCE.” a.
LA. READER § ©:

“,.-HE’S WONDERFUL AND HILARIOUS
AND KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT IT’S ALL

ABOUT AND HAS EARNED MY UNDYING “IN PERFORMANCE, MOORE TAKES

RESPECT. WHAT HE’S DOING IS IMPOS- . : ce 4
SIBLE AND HE KNOWS IT. THAT’S GOOD . ea ROVANINGS OF HIS DISADVANTAGE,
Paag: ee A Eg BECOMING AN UNLIKELY GUIDE INTO

THE PLEASURES OF THE BODY,

ae 4 Sees ee e TAKING AUDIENCES WHERE THEY
“RESISTING “THE EASY AND SUPER- ae Be a WOULD PROBABLY NEVER GO
FICIAL DESCRIPTIONS..., MOORE’S a : a. | WITHOUT THE EXAMPLE OF HIS
WORK CHALLENGES THE CONSENSUS VULNERABILITY AND TRUST...THAT
VIEW MORE STRONGLY IN WAYS LESS MOORE SHOULD BE THE ONE URGING
ACCEPTABLE THAN...ANGRY TIRADES US TO STAY CONNECTED TO OUR

AND BITTER ATTACKS ON CONSUMER PHYSICAL SELVES IS BOTH IRONIC
CULTURE.” AND POETIC...

LA. WEEKLY Fo

CHICAGO NEW CITY [im VILLAGE VOICE

“FRANK MOORE ISN’T YOUR AVERAGE “IF PERFORMANCE ART HAS A
ARTIST...ONE OF THE MORE PROVOCA- eC —s as RADICAL EDGE, IT HAS TO BE
TIVE WRITERS, FILM DIRECTORS AND- — eR WL FRANK MOORE.
YES-PERFORMANCE ARTISTS AROUND : tock THE CLEVELAND EDITION
SINCE THE EARLY ’70’S.”

THE ORGONIAN

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CAN PERFORM WRITE TO:
Frank Moore P.O. Box 11445 Berkeley CA 94701-2445

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copyrighted 1981

length: 35 minutes

| THIS IS A FILM ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS
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@ sINCE BIRTH WITH CEREBRAL PALSY. IT IS A HUMOROUS,
YET REALISTIC LOOK AT HOW TO ESTABLISH RELATION-
SHIPS BY CHANGING NEGATIVE SELF IMAGE.

AND DISABILITY

erotic play
copyrighted 1983

length: 84 minutes

\\. ris VIDEO EXPLORES WHA
OF ALL TYPES AND AGES ARE GIVEN A CHANCE TO

NS RETURN TO BEING A KID AGAIN. A SIMPLE GAME OF
(DRESS-UP BECOMES A POWERFUL METAPHOR FOR

= DROPPING TABOOS, RELEASING CREATIVE EMOTION, AND
OR DRAMATIC CHANGE. AS A RESULT, AN INNOCENT.
EROTICISM IS FOUND... AS WELL AS GETTING INTIMATE

WITH 60 HUMANS.

T HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE

outrageous dream
copyrighted 1984

length: 41 minutes
A SURREAL, VISUAL POEM OF FOUND IMAGES.

copyrighted 1984
length: 113 minutes
AN EROTIC, SURREALISTIC VIDEO DREAM THAT

COMBINES NON-LINEAR IMAGES AND FRANK’S
ORIGINAL MUSIC SCORE.

the outrageous beauty revue

f copyrighted 1980

“length: approx. 30 minutes

}| THIS RAW VIDEO DOCUMENTS THE TACKY, MUSICAL,

OVER-THE-EDGE COMEDY REVUE THAT FRANK CREATED,

DIRECTED AND PERFORMED IN. THE SHOW RAN ON A
WEEKLY BASIS FOR THREE AND ONE HALF YEARS AT THE
MABUHAY GARDENS IN SAN FRANCISCO IN ADDITION TO
A NUMBER OF OTHER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA AND
NEVADA PERFORMANCES. FRANK PERFORMED ALONG
WITH THE THIRTY PEOPLE WHO MADE UP HIS THEATRE
GROUP, “the theatre of human melting.”

“gut of isolation
“< copyrighted 1989

a * Jength: 105 minutes
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Published 1987 $5 OUT eroplay AND ART.

art of living
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cherotic magic

A MAJOR ATTEM

sie esala sy TO INTRODUCE A POWERFUL SYSTEM

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Seal is LY EXPANDING SUCH CONCEPTS ‘Ag
LATIONSHIPS. THE CLEAR, DOWN-TO-

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FRANK THE ROCKSTAR as A
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aT | an, 1 got you babe, AND hand of doom

_ to order call or write: Ay 4

frank moore

P.O. BOX 11445, B
| , BERKEL
WH! (510)526-7858 EY, CA 94701-2445

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REVIEWS

The Cherotic Revolutionary #1
January 1992

>)

“I love your magazine and articles:
Karen Finley

THE CHEROTIC REVOLUTIONARY #2. JULY, 1992

TCR is edited by Frank Moore and Linda Mac, and published by Kyle and Luna
Griffith. The art editor is Michael LaBash, and the circulation manager is Alexi
Malenky.

The price for this issue is $5.00 per copy. We don't sell subscriptions,
to avoid tying ourselves down to a rigid publication schedule or magazine size.
We want to remain free to publish small issues frequently or larger issues at
longer intervals and adjust the price accordingly.

All material is copyrighted 1992 in the names of the individual
authors/artists. Material by the five of us on the editorial staff may be
reprinted without advance permission -- but please inquire before reprinting
material by the other contributors. Of course, we would like copies of all
reprints from the magazine, and we'd also like to see copies of all reviews or
comments on TCR.

We heartily encourage letters of comment from readers and will answer as
many aS we can. Please tell us if you don't want us to print material from your
letter -- otherwise we will assume it's OK.

Please address all correspondence and orders for magazines to:

Frank Moore, P.O. Box 11445, Berkeley, CA 94701-2445

In This Issue ...

Cover: "“Bubblehead Por-trit" of Frank Moore -- Lee Kay
2. Frankly Speaking -- Editorial -- Frank Moore
4. Cultural Subversion -- Frank Moore
9. Definitions -- Frank Moore
10. A. Crowley (The Beast 666) -- H. R. Giger
11. The Political Correctness Mafia -- Curtis York
18. Simulation/Stimulation -- digitized photograph -- Peter Petrisko, Jr.
19. Publisher's Introduction to Cherotic Magic -- Kyle Griffith
23. Drawing -- John Seabury
24. Review of Frank Moore's "Passions Play" Performance -- Stavros Krysiak
25. Photograph of Frank Moore -- Kevin Rice
27. I Bet God, Pt. 1 -- Barnaby Chancellor
28. Catalog of Things for Sale
Back Cover: Michael LaBash

TCR #2 - 1

FRANKLY SPEAKING

by
FRANK MOORE

WELL, THIS IS ANOTHER FINE ISSUE YOU'VE GOTTEN ME INTO, STAN...IS THAT YOUR
NAME...HEY, YOU WHO ARE READING THIS. AFTER ALL, YOU SHOULD TAKE EQUAL CREDIT (OR
EQUAL BLAME) AS US FOR TCR...AFTER ALL, YOU ARE READING THIS.

WE SAID AWHILE BACK THAT TCR WOULD BE ABOUT THE EDGE BY ARTISTS (OF ALL KINDS)
WHO ARE ON THE EDGE. AS YOU WILL SEE, THAT HAS COME ABOUT.

TCR HAS STARTED CREATING ITSELF. THE NEXT ISSUE IS ALREADY LOADED AND READY T0
BE FIRED OFF. WE GET MATERIAL IN MANY DIFFERENT WAYS.

FOR EXAMPLE, BARNABY CHANCELLOR FROM ARIZONA WAS PASSING THROUGH BERKELEY AND
DROPPED INTO SMOKEY JOE'S CAFE FOR BREAKFAST. SINCE TCR WAS FOR SALE THERE, HE
BROWSED THROUGH IT...AND GOT VERY EXCITED. HE STARTED TALKING TO THE COOK, WHO
JUST HAPPENED TO BE ALEXI OUR CIRCULATION MANAGER. BARNABY SAID HE HAD A POEM,
AND THAT HE HADN'T YET FOUND A ZINE THAT HE WANTED TO PUT HIS POEM IN...UNTIL
TCR. WE ARE HONORED.

YOU WHO HAVE GOTTEN ADDICTED TO LaBASH'S COVERS AND ARE FREAKING OUT BECAUSE
THERE IS NOT ONE IN THIS ISSUE...JUST TURN TO THE BACK COVER...IT'S THERE. OUR
FRONT COVER ARTIST IS LEE KAY OUT OF CHICAGO. HE IS KNOWN FOR HIS “BUBBLEHEAD
POR-TRITS" OF CULT FIGURES OF THE UNDERGROUND CULTURE. AH, YES, YOU NOW SEE WHAT
THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT WHEN THEY SAY I'VE A BIG HEAD! BY THE WAY, A BUBBLEHEAD
OF ANNIE SPRINKLE WILL GRACE HER WRITINGS IN OUR NEXT ISSUE.

WE ARE BLOWN OUT AT THE ARTISTS TO WHOM OUR LITTLE ZINE HAS ACCESS TO THROUGH
MAGICAL CHANNELS. A CASE IN POINT IS H. R. GIGER. BASED IN SWITZERLAND, HE IS AN
INTERNATIONALLY KNOWN SURREALIST. IF YOU HAVE WATCHED THE ALIEN(S) FILMS, YOU
HAVE ENTERED HIS EROTIC VISUAL NIGHTMARES. WHEN THE PUNK BAND THE DEAD KENNEDYS
ENCLOSED HIS COCKS/PUSSIES PAINTING IN THEIR ALBUM, THEY WERE BUSTED FOR
OBSCENITY. (THEY WERE FINALLY JUDGED NOT GUILTY...AFTER THE CASE HAD BROKEN
THEM. ) THANKS TO MY CLOSE FRIEND LES BARANY, WHO IS GIGER'S AGENT IN THE U.S.,
FOR GIVING US PERMISSION TO REPRINT THE WORK.

PETER PETRISKO JR., AS WELL AS OBVIOUSLY BEING A GOOD PHOTOCOPY-ARTIST, IS THE
CENTER OF THE CULTURAL UNDERGROUND IN PHOENIX, ARIZONA, WITH HIS OWN ZINE (e)X-
communications (WHICH HAS PUBLISHED MY CULTURAL SUBVERSION THAT IS ALSO
APPEARING IN THIS ISSUE), HIS OWN BOOKSTORE METROPOPHOBOBIA (WHICH CARRIES ALL
OF OUR STUFF), AND HIS OWN PERFORMANCE CLUB GALLERY X (AT WHICH I WILL BE
APPEARING THIS NOVEMBER).

KEVIN RICE IS AN UP-AND-COMING PHOTO-JOURNALIST WHO HAS DOCUMENTED OUR
PERFORMANCES OVER THE YEARS.

STAVROS KRYSIAK'S REVIEW OF ONE OF OUR PERFORMANCES CAME OVER A COMPUTER NETWORK.
THIS IS AN EXAMPLE OF THE PERSONAL ANARCHIAL TECHNOLOGIES I AM TALKING ABOUT IN
CULTURAL SUBVERSION. STAVROS AND I HAVE DEVELOPED A CLOSE RELATIONSHIP BY TALKING
EVERY NIGHT OVER THE GENIE NETWORK, WHICH IS RUN BY GENERAL ELECTRIC. WE TALK
ABOUT STRANGE THINGS SUCH AS SHAMANISM, SHAPING REALITY, RITUAL....AND OF COURSE
THE MANY THINGS I AM SELLING.

TCR #2 - 2

THE POWERFUL THING ABOUT A NETWORK LIKE THIS IS PEOPLE ALL OVER THE COUNTRY CAN
READ OUR TALK AND, IF THEY WISH, JOIN IN. SO FOR $4.95 A MONTH (WITH NO PHONE
BILL), I HAVE NIGHTLY ACCESS TO A NATIONAL AUDIENCE IN A DIRECT ALMOST LIVE
CHANNEL THROUGH WHICH I CAN POUR SUBVERSIVE CONCEPTS AND INFO. HEY! WHY DON'T
YOU JOIN ME ON-LINE?

KYLE SAYS A LOT OF NICE THINGS ABOUT ME IN HIS NEW INTRODUCTION TO MY BOOK,
CHEROTIC MAGIC. BUT I THINK THE MOST IMPORTANT ASPECT OF HIS PIECE IS THAT HE
OUTLINES THE PROCESS BY WHICH THE STUDENT WITHIN A TRIBAL SHAMANISTIC TRAINING
"LEARNS" BY A DISCIPLINE OF TRUST.

I'M LAZY. FOR MONTHS I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT WRITING ABOUT THE LIBERAL
SICKNESS CALLED "POLITICAL CORRECTNESS." THIS SICKNESS FRAGMENTS PEOPLE INTO
ARTIFICIAL GROUPS (BLACK, GAY, WOMEN, DISABLED, ETC.) WITHIN WHICH THEY THEN ARE
FORCED TO STAY. THIS SICKNESS MAKES THE INDIVIDUAL SO FRAGILE THAT ANY "BAD" OR
"WRONG" WORD OR IMAGE (NIGGER, FAG, CHICK, CRIPPLE) CAN COMPLETELY SHATTER THE
PERSON. THIS FRAGILENESS MAKES IT IMPOSSIBLE TO FUNCTION IN THE REAL WORLD
WITHOUT THE ARTIFICIAL DOME OF PC-CENSORSHIP. I WAS GOING TO EXAMINE THIS
SICKNESS WITHIN THE ART WORLD, USING THE ART COMBINE HIGHWAYS/HIGH PERFORMANCE
MAGAZINE AS MY CASE STUDY. BUT I KEPT PUTTING IT OFF. I'M LAZY. THEN CURTIS
YORK'S LETTER FELL INTO MY HANDS. NOW I DON'T NEED TO WRITE THAT ARTICLE!

TALKING ABOUT PC-CENSORSHIP BRINGS US TO THE CARTOON BY THE ROCK'N'ROLL ARTIST
JOHN SEABURY. WE HAVE GOTTEN SHIT FOR RUNNING HIS DRAWING IN THIS ISSUE...FROM
PEOPLE WHO NORMALLY ARE AGAINST CENSORSHIP. I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT WHY THIS
DRAWING GETS PEOPLE SO ANGRY OR UP-TIGHT. I DON'T THINK IT IS THE IMAGES. AFTER
ALL, LOOK AT LaBASH'S DRAWINGS. THE TABOO-BREAKING IMAGE CONTENTS ARE EQUAL
BETWEEN THEM. THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THESE TWO ARTISTS IS LaBASH IS NONLINEAR
WHILE SEABURY IS LINEAR.

FRANK MOORE

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CULTURAL SUBVERSION
BY
FRANK MOORE

October 23, 1991

THIS WILL BE PERSONAL. BUT THE PERSONAL LEVEL IS THE KEY TO UNDERSTANDING THE
CULTURAL, ARTISTIC, AND POLITICAL MOVEMENT WHICH IS TAKING BACK TECHNOLOGY INTO
THE PERSONAL CONTROL OF ANYONE WHO HAS SOMETHING TO SAY, SOMETHING TO CREATE. IT
IS PERSONAL TECHNOLOGY, ANARCHISTIC TECHNOLOGY. IT IS NOT LIKE CABLE T.V. WHICH
WE WERE TOLD 10 YEARS AGO WOULD LIBERATE THE PERSON BY GIVING HIM INTIMATE AND
DIRECT INFORMATION AND COMMUNICATION CHANNELS...BUT WHICH TODAY IS SIMPLY MORE
CHANNELS FOR THE MONEY TYPES WHO HAVE ALWAYS CONTROLLED THE COMMUNICATION FLOWING
THROUGH MASS MEDIA...JUST MORE MONOPOLIZED CHANNELS FOR PASSIVE ENTERTAINMENT,
SELLING, AND MANIPULATION OF INFORMATION AND OF REALITY. THE ONLY EXCEPTION TO
THIS IS THE LOCAL ACCESS CHANNELS WHICH ARE KEPT IN THE CLOSET AND ARE ALWAYS IN
DANGER OF BEING AXED BY THE CABLE COMPANY. THESE ACCESS CHANNELS ARE A PART OF
THE PERSONAL TECHNOLOGY.

PERSONAL TECHNOLOGY IS BASICALLY A SLIP UP OF WHAT I HAVE CALLED ELSEWHERE "THE
COMBINE PLOT." I TOOK THE TERM "COMBINE" FROM THE KEN KESEY NOVEL ONE FLEW OVER
THE CUCKOO'S NEST. THE COMBINE PLOT IS A HIDDEN DYNAMIC SYSTEM OF POWER, CONTROL,
AND INTEREST THAT KEEPS THE TOOLS OF CREATION AND OF EFFECTIVE CHANGE OUT OF THE
HANDS OF THE COMMON PEOPLE. THIS KEEPS THE PEOPLE POWERLESS, KEEPING THE POWER
WITHIN AN ELITE. THE TOOLS OF EFFECTIVE CHANGE HAVE BEEN KEPT OUT OF THE HANDS
OF THE COMMON PEOPLE BY FALSE RITUALS OF EDUCATION, MONEY, AND BULKY EXPENSIVE
EQUIPMENT WHICH TOOK A CULT KNOWLEDGE TO OPERATE. ADDED TO THIS MAZE OF CREATIVE
BLOCKS WAS THE FALSE MYTHS ABOUT TALENT AND THE ACCEPTABLE QUALITY LEVELS NEEDED
TO REACH PEOPLE, ACCEPTABLE QUALITY LEVELS BELOW WHICH PEOPLE ARE TRAINED TO NOT
WATCH OR LISTEN.

ALL OF THIS IS TOO ABSTRACT AND PHILOSOPHICAL. IN THIS ARTICLE, I WILL TRY TO
PULL THESE ISSUES DOWN INTO THE REAL WORLD BY USING MY OWN ARTISTIC EXPERIENCES
AS A CONTEXT. BUT IT IS IMPORTANT TO REALIZE AT THE BEGINNING THAT PERSONAL
TECHNOLOGY, ANARCHISTIC TECHNOLOGY IS STILL TECHNOLOGY. ALL TECHNOLOGY HAS
HIDDEN, BUILT-IN LINKS TO THE ESTABLISHED ORDER OF ISOLATION AND FRAGMENTATION.
THESE LINKS CAN FRUSTRATE ATTEMPTS TO USE TECHNOLOGY TO SUBVERT THE ESTABLISHED
REALITY. ONLY BY BEING ALWAYS AWARE OF THESE LINKS TO ISOLATION AND
FRAGMENTATION INHERENT IN ALL TECHNOLOGY, CAN TECHNOLOGY BE SAFELY USED AS A TOOL
OF CULTURAL SUBVERSION. THIS FACT AGAIN BANGED ME OVER THE HEAD WHEN I WAS
TALKING TO A SUCCESSFUL MUSICIAN WHO DIDN'T UNDERSTAND WHY ALL PERFORMERS DO NOT
STOP TOURING, CONSIDERING THE POLLUTION CAUSED BY TRAVELING...AND DO WHAT HE
DOES, WHICH IS DO EVERYTHING THROUGH TELECOMMUNICATIONS. I JUST SAID YOU CAN NOT
TOUCH THROUGH PHONES, COMPUTERS, VIDEOS...AND EVEN THROUGH WRITING. TO RESTORE
HUMANITY TO OUR CULTURE BY USING TECHNOLOGY, WE MUST KNOW AND ADMIT THE
LIMITATIONS OF THAT TECHNOLOGY.

ALL TECHNOLOGY IS A DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD. THIS INCLUDES “THE: “VERY FURST
COMMUNICATION TECHNOLOGY...WRITING/READING. WE USUALLY THINK OF THE INVENTION OF

TCR #2 - 5

WRITING AS EXTREMELY LIBERATING. AND IN SO MANY WAYS IT WAS. BUT IN SO MANY OTHER
WAYS IT CONFINED HUMANITY. FOR ONE THING, IT PLACED A FIXED LINEAR FRAME OF
THINKING WITHIN THE HUMAN BRAIN MUCH MORE THAN SPOKEN LANGUAGE HAD DONE.
MOREOVER, WRITING/READING CREATED A VERY EXCLUSIVE ELITE FOR MOST OF THE KNOWN
HUMAN HISTORY. BEFORE WRITING, EVERYONE KNEW THE TRIBAL LANGUAGE...EVERYONE KNEW
HOW TO PAINT, SING, DANCE. INFORMATION FLOWED BOTH BETWEEN PEOPLE AND WITHIN
TIME TO THE FUTURE THROUGH THIS TRIBAL ACCESSIBLE LANGUAGE BOTH OF SPOKEN WORD
AND OF ART. IF INFORMATION DID NOT FLOW THROUGH THIS TRIBAL CHANNEL, THAT
INFORMATION WAS LOST. ALL OF THIS CHANGED WHEN WRITING WAS INVENTED. NOW THERE
WAS A CHANNEL THAT WAS NOT ACCESSIBLE TO EVERYONE, A CHANNEL THAT DID NOT EASILY
LOSE INFORMATION. THOSE WHO COULD ACCESS THIS CHANNEL HAD POWER. BECAUSE OF THIS,
FOR MOST OF RECORDED HISTORY, THE SKILL OF READING/WRITING WAS MONOPOLIZED BY
THE RULING ELITE TO MAINTAIN ITS POWER. THIS WAS TRUE EVEN AFTER A LARGER
MINORITY GAINED LIMITED ACCESS TO THE FLOWING CHANNEL OF WRITING. ONE OF THE WAYS
THE ELITE MAINTAINED ITS CONTROL WAS BY WITHDRAWING THE IMPORTANT
IDEAS...DANGEROUS IDEAS...BOTH THE SACRED AND PROFANE, AWAY FROM THE COMMON
PEOPLE, WITHDRAWING THE DANGEROUS IDEAS INTO A DEAD LANGUAGE SUCH AS LATIN OR
GREEK. ONLY THE MEMBERS OF THE ELITE WHO WENT THROUGH THE RITUALS OF EDUCATION
OF THE ESTABLISHED ORDER (BE IT RELIGIOUS, POLITICAL, AND/OR CLASS) COULD READ
OR SPEAK THIS DEAD LANGUAGE OF POWER. THERE WAS ANOTHER CHANNEL OF FLOWING
INFORMATION WHICH WAS THE FOLK ART, FOLK MUSIC, AND FOLK WORDS, BE IT WRITTEN OR
SPOKEN. THIS FOLK CHANNEL WAS ACCESSIBLE TO EVERYONE. IT WAS A DYNAMIC,
INTERACTIVE CHANNEL OF COMMUNICATION. BUT THE FULL FORCE OF THIS FOLK CHANNEL WAS
ALWAYS KEPT IN CHECK BY THE ELITE CHANNEL WITH THE MYTH THAT ANYTHING WHICH COMES
THROUGH THE FOLK CHANNEL WAS NOT WORTHY OR IMPORTANT BECAUSE IT DID NOT COME FROM
THE HIDDEN KNOWLEDGE.

THIS CONTROL OF THE ELITE DID NOT START TO BREAK DOWN UNTIL THE PRINTING PRESS
BECAME COST ACCESSIBLE TO THE MEMBERS OF THE COMMON PEOPLE. THIS OPENED TO THE
COMMON PEOPLE A COMMUNICATION CHANNEL WHICH WAS NOT ROOTED IN PHYSICAL
TIME....THAT IS, YOU WRITE SOMETHING AND SOMEONE WITHIN ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER
PLACE READS EXACTLY WHAT YOU THOUGHT. THIS IS THE REAL FORCE WHICH WAS UNLOCKED
BY THE PRINTING PRESS, AND NOT THE ABILITY TO REACH MASS AMOUNTS OF PEOPLE.
WITHOUT THE PRINTING PRESS BEING TO A LARGE DEGREE ACCESSIBLE TO THE FORCES OF
CHANGE, THE AMERICAN AND FRENCH REVOLUTION MIGHT NOT HAVE HAPPENED.

BUT THE ELITE QUICKLY DEVELOPED STRATEGIES TO LIMIT ACCESS FOR THE COMMON PEOPLE
TO THIS PRINTING CHANNEL. THE ELITE SPREAD THE MYTH THAT TO BE REALLY EFFECTIVE,
A WRITER HAD TO GO THROUGH THE RITUALS OF THE EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM, AND THEN BE
BLESSED BY BEING RECOGNIZED BY THE PUBLISHING FACTORY, WHICH BECAME INCREASINGLY
MASSIVE AND IMPERSONAL. SELF PUBLISHING WAS LABELLED "VANITY PRESS." THE PRESSES
THAT OFFERED THIS SERVICE WERE SEEN AS CONS, AS SCAMS. WRITERS WHO USED THIS
SERVICE WERE THOUGHT OF AS UNTALENTED FOOLS WHO GOT CONNED. THE INDIVIDUAL WHO
BELIEVED IN THIS MYTH OF THE POWER OF THE CORPORATE MEDIA SYSTEM TO BESTOW ACCESS
TO COMMUNICATIONS, AND TO BESTOW VALIDITY THROUGH ACCEPTANCE, WAS FROZEN OUT OF
ANY REAL POSITION FOR SUBVERSIVE CHANGE.

ALL OF THIS IS AN HISTORICAL BACKGROUND ON WHICH I CAN TALK ABOUT THE ISSUES OF
PERSONAL TECHNOLOGY, ANARCHISTIC TECHNOLOGY IN THE CONTEXT OF CULTURAL
SUBVERSION.

I STARTED OUT IN THE LATE 60'S WRITING FOR UNDERGROUND PAPERS AS A POLITICAL
COLUMNIST...SNEAKING INTO THE MIMEOGRAPH ROOM AT SCHOOL TO RUN OFF A HUNDRED
COPIES UNDER THE PROTECTION OF A FRIENDLY TEACHER. OF COURSE, THE TEACHER ALWAYS,
AS WELL AS US, GOT INTO HOT WATER...AND THE ACCESS TO THE MIMEOGRAPH MACHINE

TCR #2 - 6

WAS CLOSED. NO ACCESS, NO UNDERGROUND PAPER. THERE WAS NOT ANY QUESTION ABOUT
QUR BUYING OUR OWN MIMEOGRAPH MACHINE...NO MONEY.

BUT IT TOOK ONLY A YEAR OR SO FOR THE UNDERGROUND PRESS TO MOVE FROM THE
MIMEOGRAPH STAGE INTO BEING RUN OFF AT OFF-SET PRINT SHOPS. THE UNDERGROUND
PRESS HAD ITS ROOTS GOING BACK THROUGH THE RADICAL PRESS OF THE 20'S AND 30'S
AND IN THE POETRY PRESS. THE KIND OF PERSON WHO PUT OUT THESE PAPERS POURED ALL
THEIR PERSONAL MONEY INTO IT, THEN HOPED BY SELLING ADS, SELLING PAPERS, BY
MAGIC, THE PAPER WOULD KEEP AFLOAT. THERE WAS RARELY ANY QUESTION OF MAKING
MONEY ON IT. BUT WHEN YOUR NEST EGG, YOUR DEAD AUNT'S MONEY, ADS, SALES, OR
WHATEVER WAS SUPPORTING YOUR RAG RAN OUT, THAT PAPER OF VISIONS DIED. BUT THERE
WAS ALWAYS A NEW PAPER BEING BORN TO FILL THE EMPTY SPACE.

THERE WAS A REJECTION OF THE OLD STANDARDS OF QUALITY OF BOTH FORM AND CONTENT
WHICH HAD KEPT THE COMMON PEOPLE FROM CREATING. AS A RESULT OF THIS REJECTION,
A NEW WAY OF LOOKING AT ART, POLITICS, AND LIFE WAS THUS CREATED. THE UNDERGROUND
PRESS BECAME SO EFFECTIVE THAT BY THE EARLY 70'S, THERE WERE OVER 700 OF THESE
PAPERS AND AN UNDERGROUND PRESS NETWORK. IT BECAME SO EFFECTIVE THAT THE F.B.1.
TARGETED THE UNDERGROUND PRESS FOR DESTRUCTION BY A COVERT WAR. BY USING THE
FACT THAT THE UNDERGROUND PAPERS RARELY HAD DIRECT ACCESS TO A PRINTING PRESS,
AND BY USING THE ORGANIZATION WHICH DEVELOPED AROUND THE UNDERGROUND PRESS, THE
F.B.I. AND THE REST OF THE COMBINE COULD BRING THE UNDERGROUND PRESS INTO
CONTROL, INTO THE FOLD.

AROUND THIS TIME, I REJECTED POLITICS AS A MEANS FOR EFFECTIVE SUBVERSIVE
CHANGE, AND BEGAN LOOKING TOWARDS ART AND MAGIC FOR AN EFFECTIVE CHANNEL. I TOOK
A FILM-MAKING COURSE, LEARNING THE TECHNICAL RITUALS OF 16MM. 16MM WAS THEN THE
HOME MOVIE TECHNOLOGY. BUT WHEN I DID THE TECHNOLOGICAL RITUALS OF LIGHTING,
SHOOTING, SPLICING, ETC., THEY TOOK ME AWAY FROM THE ACTUAL MAGIC OF DOING.
HIDDEN WITHIN THESE TECHNOLOGICAL RITUALS ARE DEADENING ROADBLOCKS TO DIRECT
PERSONAL CREATIVE COMMUNICATIONS. ROADBLOCKS CAN BE GOTTEN AROUND. BUT WHY BOTHER
WHEN THERE ARE DIRECT ALTERNATIVE ROUTES?

AFTER THE FILM COURSE, I STILL HAD NO MONEY TO MAKE FILMS. ONE ROAD WOULD HAVE
BEEN TO PUT MY TIME AND ENERGY INTO GETTING MONEY OR A POSITION TO MAKE FILMS.
BUT I ALWAYS HAVE MISTRUSTED THE MYTH OF CHANGING THE SYSTEM FROM WITHIN. IT
NEVER WORKS. ONCE YOU HAVE COMPROMISED, MODIFIED, CHANGED, DISTORTED BOTH
YOURSELF AND YOUR MESSAGE TO GET THE MEDIA CHANNEL, WHY BOTHER SENDING THE
MESSAGE? THE SYSTEM MYTH IS A MAJOR VACUUM THAT SUCKS CREATIVE POWER AWAY FROM
PEOPLE BY PUTTING VAST AMOUNTS OF TIME BETWEEN THE PERSON AND THE ACT OF
CREATION. WHETHER THE MYTH IS OF WAITING TO GET ENOUGH MONEY, EDUCATION, OR
POWER BEFORE YOU CREATE, THE EFFECT IS THE SAME...WAITING FOR GODOT.

FOR THESE REASONS, I CREATED A NO/LOW TECH FORM OF LIVE PERFORMANCE WHICH DID NOT
NEED MONEY, THEATER SPACE, SETS, STAGE LIGHTING, APPROVAL, OR A PARTICULAR
AUDIENCE SIZE. THIS NO/LOW TECH FORM IS VITAL TO WORK WHICH IS CULTURALLY
oe tat oae BY EXPANDING THE CONCEPT OF SEXUALITY AND REALITY BEYOND THE FRAME
OF TABOOS.

FOR ME AS A NO/LOW TECH ARTIST, THE PERSONAL TECHNOLOGY, ANARCHISTIC TECHNOLOGY
IS A VERY IMPORTANT DIMENSION. I FIRST REALIZED THIS WHEN I WAS TRYING TO GET
ESTABLISHED IN N.Y.C. IN THE EARLY 70'S. I COULD NOT FIND OUT ABOUT ART EVENTS
UNTIL AFTER THE FACT WHEN I READ ABOUT THEM IN THE VILLAGE VOICE. SO I COULDN'T
GO TO THEM. SO I COULDN'T MEET PEOPLE WITH WHOM I COULD HAVE GOTTEN SOMETHING
GOING. QNE REASON FOR THIS WAS THERE WAS VERY LITTLE FLYERING. IN N.Y.C.,
ORGANIZED CRIME HAS A MONOPOLY ON PUTTING UP POSTERS. I DID NOT REALIZE HOW MUCH

TCR #2 - 7

NO FLYERING ISOLATED PEOPLE UNTIL I MOVED TO BERKELEY WHERE ON EVERY TELEPHONE
POLE, THERE WERE 10, 20, 30 FLYERS. ANYONE WHO HAS AN EVENT, A GROUP, A CAUSE,
SOMETHING TO SAY, CAN G0 TO A XEROX PLACE, RUN OFF HUNDREDS, OR EVEN THOUSANDS,
OF FLYERS AND STAPLE THEM UP ALL OVER TOWN. THIS DIRECT TWO- WAY FORM OF THE PRESS
PLUGGED ME IMMEDIATELY INTO THE COMMUNITY WHERE I COULD DO MY WORK.

WE HAVE TO START SEEING FLYERING, BE IT ON TELEPHONE POLES OR ON COMPUTER
BULLETIN BOARDS, AS A FORM OF PERSONAL PRESS, AND AS SUCH IT IS PROTECTED UNDER
THE FREEDOM OF PRESS. BIG BROTHER COMES IN MANY FORMS FROM THE MAFIA TO
GOVERNMENT (DOWN TO THE ANTI-FLIER LAWS AS PART OF A CITY'S "BEAUTIFICATION"
CAMPAIGN) TO CORPORATIONS SUCH AS A.T.&T. AND BLOCKBUSTER VIDEOS.

JUST RECENTLY I SAW THE POWER OF THIS DIRECT PERSONAL PRESS. FOR YEARS I HAVE NOT
BEEN ABLE TO BE BOOKED IN THE "ALTERNATIVE" PERFORMANCE GALLERIES IN. THE BAY AREA
FOR VARIOUS REASONS...SO I PUT 500 "TOO CONTROVERSIAL FOR THE BAY AREA" FLYERS
UP ASKING FOR LEADS TO SPACES. FROM THE VERY FIRST FLYER WE PUT UP CAME THREE
GOOD LEADS INTO THE TRUE ALTERNATIVE ART SCENE. MOREOVER, THE FLYER DIRECTLY
EXPOSED THE TRUE CONDITION OF THE ESTABLISHED "ALTERNATIVE" ART WORLD.

THIS DIRECT EXPOSING IS ONE OF THE STRENGTHS OF THE PERSONAL TECHNOLOGY,
ANARCHISTIC TECHNOLOGY IN THE CONTEXT OF CULTURAL SUBVERSION. BE IT A CAMCORDER
CAPTURING POLICE BRUTALITY OR A XEROX ZINE PUBLISHING RADICAL HERETOFORE
UNPUBLISHABLE MATERIAL, THE EFFECT IS TO DECENTRALIZE POWER, PUTTING IT INTO THE
PERSONAL LEVEL. I NOTICED THIS AGAIN LAST YEAR WHEN SEN. JESSE HELMS TARGETED ME
FOR INVESTIGATION FOR MY ART. WITH ONLY ONE EXCEPTION, NO ONE FROM THE REGULAR
PRESS CONTACTED ME TO GET MY REACTION OR STORY. SOME OF THE ART MAGAZINES PRINTED
MY OPEN LETTER TO HELMS AND MY ARTICLE ON CENSORSHIP. BUT I REACHED A WIDE
NATIONAL AUDIENCE WHEN THE SPIRITUAL REVOLUTIONARY (TSR), A NEWSLETTER ZINE BY
S/R PRESS, PRINTED BOTH. WHILE TSR HAS A SMALL READERSHIP, OTHER ZINES REPRINTED
MY TWO PIECES FROM TSR, WITHOUT MY PERMISSION BUT WITHOUT EDITING. THEN STILL
OTHER ZINES REPRINTED THE MATERIAL FROM THOSE ZINES. THE EFFECT OF THIS
ANARCHISTIC GRAPEVINE OF XEROX ZINES IS I HAD EXPOSURE TO A WIDE NATIONAL
AUDIENCE WHICH WAS MADE UP OF SMALL SUBCULTURES.

THE COMBINE RECOGNIZES THE UNCONTROLLABLE FORCE REPRESENTED BY THE DIRECT
PERSONAL COMMUNICATIONS THROUGH THE ANARCHISTIC TECHNOLOGY. THE COMBINE IS
TRYING TO PUT THIS GENIE BACK IN THE BOTTLE. THE EASIEST, AND THE MOST OBVIOUS,
WAY TO DO THIS IS TO CENSOR THE PHYSICAL CHANNELS...BE IT PHONE LINES, THE MAIL,
OR T.V./RADIO WAVES.

BUT THERE ARE HIDDEN MEANS BY WHICH THE COMBINE CAN THWART THE DIRECT PERSONAL
USE OF TECHNOLOGY. ONE OF THESE IS MAKING EQUIPMENT SUCH AS COMPUTERS OBSOLETE
EVERY SIX MONTHS, NOT FOR ANY REAL FUNCTIONAL IMPROVEMENT, BUT FOR PROGRESS. THE
EFFECT OF HABITUAL UPGRADING IS NOT ONLY THAT WE KEEP HAVING TO BUY NEW
SOFT/HARDWARE, BUT IT ALSO CREATES A FALSE MYSTERY AROUND THE COMPUTER VERY MUCH
LIKE THE DEAD LANGUAGE OF LATIN DID IN THE DARK AGES.

BUT THE BEST WAY FOR THE COMBINE TO CURB THE USE OF PERSONAL TECHNOLOGY IS BY
THE STANDARDS OF “PROFESSIONAL QUALITY."

WHEN I XEROX PUBLISHED MY FIRST TWO BOOKS, I DID NOT RUN INTO THIS WALL OF
"PROFESSIONAL QUALITY." THIS IS BECAUSE I SOLD THEM DIRECTLY, PERSONALLY AT MY
PERFORMANCES, AS WELL BY THE MAIL THROUGH A REVIEW IN BOX OF WATER.

BUT WHEN S/R PRESS XEROX PUBLISHED MY BOOK, CHEROTIC MAGIC, WE TOOK IT, AS WELL
AS MY ZINE THE CHEROTIC REVOLUTIONARY, AROUND TO BOOKSTORES. THE REASON WHY A

TCR #2 - 8

LOT OF THE BOOKSTORES GAVE FOR NOT CARRYING THE BOOK WAS NOT THE WRITTEN OR THE
VISUAL CONTENTS OF THE BOOK, BUT THAT IT HAD A SPIRAL BINDING, RATHER THAN A
REGULAR BINDING. HAVING A REGULAR BINDING WOULD BOOST THE COST OUT OF THE REALM
OF PERSONAL LEVEL AND INTO THE TRADITIONAL PUBLISHING WITH ITS CONCERNS OF MASS
SALES. KYLE GRIFFITH IS FOND OF SAYING THAT IF THE BOOK'S FORMAT IS T00
REVOLUTIONARY FOR A BOOKSTORE, THEN THE CONTENT IS ALSO...SO IT WOULD SERVE NO
PURPOSE FOR US TO TRY TO PACKAGE IT DIFFERENTLY. I MUST QUICKLY ADD THAT THERE
ARE QUITE A FEW BOOKSTORES THAT ARE NOT LOCKED INTO BUYING SOLELY FROM A
DISTRIBUTOR, THAT WILL CARRY PERSONAL XEROX PUBLISHED BOOKS AND ZINES. MOREOVER,
THERE ARE BOOKSTORES DEVOTED TO PERSONAL XEROX PUBLICATIONS...FOR EXAMPLE,
METROPOPHOBOBIA IN, OF ALL PLACES, PHOENIX! THESE OUTLETS FOR PERSONAL
PUBLICATIONS WILL MULTIPLY IN THE COMING YEARS.

I HAVE DEALT WITH THE BARRIERS OF FORMAT AND TECHNOLOGY TO PERSONAL DIRECT HUMAN
INVOLVEMENT IN EVERY MEDIUM I HAVE TRIED. A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE ASSUMED THIS WAS
BECAUSE I WAS POOR, DID NOT KNOW HOW TO GET GRANTS, DID NOT KNOW HOW TO USE
TECHNOLOGY, OR DID NOT KNOW HOW TO USE THE SYSTEM. IN REALITY, EVEN IF I HAD TONS
OF MONEY, I WOULD STILL USE THE SAME NO/LOW TECH, BECAUSE THAT IS THE BEST WAY
TO TAKE BACK THE CREATIVE FORCE FROM THE COMBINE...BACK INTO THE HANDS OF ANYONE
WITH A CREATIVE URGE...OR, FOR THAT MATTER, A DESTRUCTIVE URGE.

SINCE WE ARE COMMUNICATING ON THE PERSONAL CHANNEL, YOU CAN SEND FEEDBACK,
INQUIRIES, OR WHATEVER TO ME AT:

FRANK MOORE
P.O. BOX 11445
BERKELEY, CA
94701-2445

DEFINITIONS:

CHERO IS THE PHYSICAL LIFE ENERGY. I CREATED THE WORD "CHERO" BY COMBINING "CHI"
AND "EROS". MAGIC IS THE SCIENCE/ART OF NONLINEAR CHANGE. IN CHEROTIC MAGIC,
IT IS THE PRACTICAL FOCUS OF THE PERSON TO RESHAPE REALITY INTO MORE HUMANE FORMS
BY USING THE MAGICAL DYNAMICS OF RELATIONSHIPS.

TCR #2 - 9

DOAN / SNOMLYOINNWWOD ANVUYA JITSAT JO ASALYNOD SL6I “WOOrT X 00Z ‘(999 LSVAd FHL) AUTMOND “WV ‘7Z7Z# MYOM “HADID “WH ZE6I O

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THE POLITICAL CORRECTNESS MAFIA by Curtis York

A letter to the editor of HIGH PERFORMANCE Magazine, dated March 5, 1992

This letter is in response to Linda Frye Burnham's editorial which was
printed in black letters on a white background in your Winter, 1991 issue.

Let me begin by saying that I believe any individual or organization which
is making any attempt to combat racism in our society deserves encouragement and
admiration. Racism is one of the various divisive human constructs which, in
addition to political patriotism, classism, sexism and religions which glorify
one group of people while condemning all others, negate the possibility that
human cultures could ever be at one and at peace. I would also point out that
racism is a problem which resides in every American, including, in my opinion,
(are you sitting down?) the co-founders of Highways Performance Space themselves,
Linda Burnham and Tim Miller.

I have for some time been angered by the base exploitation of "people of
color" and "the gay community" under the banner of "multiculturalism in the arts"
being waved by carpet bagging white operated organizations, including Highways
and High Performance Magazine. Imagine my surprise to discover that L.A.'s own
Linda Frye Burnham, reigning co-arbitrator of multiculturalism is Los Angeles,
had written an article on the very subject, citing examples of the horrible race
based abuses taking place in the arts "community" by other white operated arts
organizations like hers.

Beginning shortly after Tim Miller publicly accused L.A.C.E. of racism,
which was soon followed by the opening of Highways Performance Space; and post
High Performance Magazine's transformation from a magazine about Performance Art
into a magazine about multicultural Performance Art, I have been agitated by the
same problem which I believe Ms. Burnham was attempting to address in her
editorial. Namely: Art Organizations run by white capitalists exploiting the
popular issues of race and racism under the banner of "multiculturalism" to snag
the big grant bucks while ignoring the merit of the work of artists as
individuals and lumping together large, vaguely connected human subsets to sell
magazines and festivals.

As a "gay" man, I am often offended when I read articles in which
generalizations are made about how "gay" people "are". I also am annoyed by
continuous references to "THE" gay community. When I flip through a gay rag or
pick up a gay porn magazine, I am often reminded that not only do I not fit in
to main stream society, I also don't cut it as a fag. Fags have over developed
bodies from working out at the Sports Connection in pastel togs. Fags invest in
real estate. Fags take lengthy cruises around the world in search of an endless
series of meaningless flings. Fags picket the opening of movies they have never
seen. Fags try to appear more heterosexual than heterosexual men do.

I find it very difficult to believe that I automatically have anything at
all in common with, for example, the hollow and meaningless models who appear in
most 976 advertisements, the men who take out personal advertisements in search
of a “straight acting" companion, Jeffrey L. Dahmer, the President of NAMBLA, or
Tim Miller, who was represented in a San Francisco paper as having said that he
desires for others to think of him as "the all-American boy next door". What the
fuck does that mean? I don't know. I don't want to know. Does he wish to be
mistaken for a heterosexual adolescent? Good luck Tim. On both counts.

TCR #2 - 11

This idea that some harmonious monochromatic definable "gay community"
exists, and that every homosexual is a member of it, is a fantasy and a lie.
Also a lie is the idea, which has been marketed by Highways Performance Space and
other organizations, (some of whom Ms. Burnham was chiding in her article) that
each member of a given ethnic group is a member of the same "community" or
"culture"; that an art event becomes "multicultural" when one or more of the
performers participating is not "white"; and that there lurked before the advent
of Highways some mysterious white supremacist force in the local performance
venues and art galleries which prevented non-white performers and artists from
creating any work.

It might be possible for me to swallow Highway's definition of
"multiculturalism" (i.e. race = culture), if the events they produce which were
billed as multicultural actually were. Often, however, when the Highways
calendar says that an event is "multicultural", what it really means is that one
or more of the usually american middle class artists involved is not "white".
Even though they may come from basically the same economic background and grew
up in the same cultural and spiritual void that most Americans do, it is
repeatedly implied that non-white artists are somehow intrinsically different
than their white counterparts, while at the same time identical to the other
members of their own "community" to the degree that all of black culture can be
represented by a single black artist, all of asian culture can be represented by
a single asian artist, all members of the homosexual-megalomaniacal-latino-
christian communities can be represented by Tim Miller, etc.

Is not each and every form of communication by every individual in some way
an expression of the many cultural influences that make up their life
experiences? Does there exist a person who is influenced only by a Single
culture?

Another indication to me that culture has come to be synonymous with race
in this ongoing debate is that nowhere deep inside Ms. Burnham's article or any
other which I have seen on the subject by Highway's own pet journalists and
multicultural experts Jan Breslauer or Doug Sadownick are discussions of, for
example, institutionalized racism against, for example, white immigrants from
Greenland. Correct me if I'm wrong, but to the best of my knowledge, no local
performance space (including Highways) has yet sponsored "White Immigrants from
Greenland" Performance and Visual Art Festival. But Highways is that one
"multicultural" performance space, and an event can only be billed as
multicultural if there are non-white artists participating. After all, everyone
knows that a white immigrant from Greenland shares the same exact culture as
Jesse Helms, Anne Frank, Adolf Hitler and my Mother.

Even as I resent being grouped together with all other males whose sexual
behavior is vaguely similar to my own, one might wonder if some of the "artists
of color" resent being mashed into the same mold as other artists of their
same(?) ethnicity. Well, yes, they do. The “artists of color" whom I have
discussed this with have expressed to me that they share my concern over this
misrepresentation of their identities.

Is Rika Ohara an artist? No. She is an “Asian" artist, a “Japanese
Immigrant" artist, or a "Heterosexual Woman" Artist. I guess that would depend
on the other artists in the given festival or exhibit. But she is definitely in
the right place at the right time. The fact that she is not only Japanese, but
actually from Japan, makes her such a good Performance, and Visual Artist in the
eyes of producing organizations like Highways, especially if they are having a

TCR $2: S012

hard time snagging an asian to round out their asian programming, their
multicultural panel, or their installation of asian visual art.

Too bad she's heterosexual. If she was a lesbian she would be an even more
qualified and valuable artist. Having english as a second language, however, is
something of a handicap. Sometimes it can be difficult for Highways
predominantly white middle class audiences to understand her when she is
performing (i.e. talking), and as Tim has shown us, despite whatever the history
of the Performance Art form may have been, these days the effectiveness of a
performance piece hinges solely on language that is presented in a conversational
style into a microphone while sitting or standing perfectly still. So what if
She moves beautifully and presents a beautiful montage of sensory experiences?
In the new reign of Miller style performance, the only thing that counts is the
artist's ability to present popular political propaganda in a conversational
fashion. Nevertheless, it is obvious that Ms. Ohara's work should be promoted
and funded sight-unseen around the world, as being Asian has until now prevented
her from doing any work. Why should she even try? Before Highways, all of the
Spaces existed as fronts for White Supremacist organizations.

I am amazed at resident "multicultural" expert Burnham's ability to decry
her way through the entire manifesto managing to maintain such distance from the
problem, speaking of it as something that other people are guilty of. When l
read paragraph 11, in which Burnham, co-progenetress of multiculturalism in Los
Angeles, stated that "For many artists of color, multiculturalism has failed",
I was reminded that; (1) multiculturalism has not failed for people of “no
color"; (2) the issue of multiculturalism is not a concern for "white" artists,
(3) when it comes to art, there is "multicultural" or "regular" (white), and (4)
culture and race are the same thing.

I was also surprised, yet at the same time relieved to learn from reading
her article that since I am white, it is so very easy for me to "decode the
funding process". "Wait a minute", I thought, "I'm white, yet at the same time
I, too am terrified of the funding process. Hey, I bet if I do a little
genealogy, I will discover that one of my distant ancestors was a "person of
color." I suppose that's possible. I feel just like Dinah Shore. That would
explain my difficulty in “decoding the funding process". My god, what a
terrifying and yet at the same time exhilarating realization. I thought I was
merely white, but I could actually be a "person of color", and therefore more
worthy of grants and gigs than I previously realized. I'm calling my Mother.

Burnham goes on to state in paragraph 14, "They are forced into ethnic
festivals or series labeled with political titles that they had no hand in
choosing." Am I wrong, or didn't Highways recently produce an "Asian/American"
Performance Festival which lumped together artists of each and every various
Asian decent? (Hmmm... I wonder... was Rachel Rosenthal contacted to
participate? She is, after all, the daughter of Russian Jews, and part of Russia
is geographically located in Asia.)

What about the recently presented "Black December"; a month long festival
of black art by black artists? Was that not an "ethnic festival or series"? I
suppose Ms. Burnham's memory is a bit blurry as a result of her sleepless
dedication to help poor non-white artists who, without her help, could never
paint or perform again. Anyway, it's a good title for a series. It works well
in terms of implying an inherent cohesiveness to the work which will be
presented. Well, they are all, after all, black, and, after all, what else could
a black artist want to express other than their experience of being black?

TCR #2 - 13

Besides, how can all black people be lumped together for the purpose of
discussion in a grant application if any one of them insists on being an
individual?

But was it fair to present an entire month of black art? What if Highways'
predominantly white, middle class audience had had a craving to see some asian
art by asian artists during "Black December"? And a month is an awfully long
time to go without access to latino art by latino artists, if that is what you
get a hankerin' for. I am certain, however, that Ms. Burnham's statement does
indicate that the title of the month-long "Black December" event was arrived at
by the consensus of each and every black artist and black technician who
participated. Hmmm, I wonder... was the all-white paid staff of Highways
temporarily replaced with an all black one during "Black December"?

0.K., I have an idea. Lets pretend. We're going to conduct a little
imaginary experiment here. Just to make things a little clearer in regard to
Highways' definition of "culture", "community", etc. I just want to get this
whole thing straight in my head so I can be a more valuable and useful artist to
the 18th Street Arts Complex. Let's see... Imagine that a middle class couple
adopts three infants of the same age. One is black, one is asian, and one is a
white baby boy who will discover later in life that he is heterosexual. Let's
also pretend, just for a moment, just for the sake of our little imaginary
experiment, that the race of the parents in unimportant.

0O.K., SO, the three happy little children grow up in the same exact
neighborhood, have the same exact friends, are taught the same exact values by
their loving parents, and generally share many of the same experiences growing
up together. If I'm getting this multicultural thing right, then despite the
fact that they shared the same conditions and environment growing up and were
taught the same values by their parents, it would be politically correct to
assume that each of the children, should they become artists later in life, would
create art expressive of three completely different cultures?

I believe it to be true that during their lifetimes, the black and asian
artist would have much more of a personal understanding of what it feels like to
be an outsider looking in at American "culture"; and to be discriminated against
and treated hatefully by ignorant people, but would, for example, the art
produced by the black artist be an expression of "the" black community, the work
by the asian artist be expressive of "the" asian community, and the work of the
white artist be a continuous attempt to stifle and make invisible the work of the
other two? O.K. Tim and Linda, whatever. I don't know if that's true, but there
is one thing I'm sure of. If they were working in Los Angeles, and presenting
a lot of their work on the 18th Street Arts Complex grounds, High Performance
Magazine would be much more likely to write extensive interviews and reviews on
the work of the black and asian artists, using generalizing terms to describe
their work, dismissing the possibility that it is an expression of individuality,
and constructing theories to reinforce each as expressive of black and asian
culture.

Now it's story time. I'm going to relate a little series of bedtime
stories, which to the best of my knowledge and belief are true, in an effort to
raise the possibility that though the lofty ideals which emanate from the mouths
and pens of the co-founders of Highways and their friends in the press may be
noble and sound good, a closer look at their actions may show that they are just
words, and the bottom line is that what they are actually attempting to secure

TCR #2 - 14

is not so much a better world for poor unfortunate people of color, but the same
old stand-bys: fame, money and power... at whatever cost.

When Mr. A., (one of L.A.'s local "latino" artists), discovered he had been
cast in a production to be staged at the Taper, Too entitled The Undead, Doug
Sadownick (Mr. A.'s "friend") shared in Mr. A.'s enthusiasm at being cast, going
on to energetically postulate that he had more than likely been chosen by the
director to add color to the production, since "Latinos are so colorful". Sounds
like a blatant racial stereotype to me, but hey, I'm not Highways resident
multicultural journalist/Highways staff columnist/Tim Miller sex toy... he is.
(I at is Richard Ramirez equally as "colorful" as the "Frito Bandito" or
Charo?

When Mr. A. was about to open his one-man show at Highways, Jan Breslauer,
Los Angeles' other multicultural expert/Highways staff "journalist" wrote the
copy that appeared in the L.A. Weekly "Pick of the Week" spot to promote the
performance. She praised his work on the grounds that it was obviously valuable
as it could be easily compared to the verbally based work of some of Highways
most frequently booked performers, going on to state that the piece also had
merit as his performance work was a continuous attempt at expressing his
experiences as a Latino-American. Curious why the short column did not reveal
anything specific or characteristic of his work, Mr. A. investigated the history
of the column, to discover that Breslauer had never seen him perform.

At the beginning of the video tape documentation of United States of
Christ, a piece which I presented at Highways, I have footage of Highways’ own
Tim Miller doing his pre-show routine encouraging the audience members to return
for some of the coming attractions. Selling "Men", a series of short pieces by
local male artists, he said "We have Asian Men, Black Men, Gay Men, Latinos...
all kinds!" When I heard this it gave me pause, as until then I had never
realized that there were only four different kinds of men; the Asian kind; the
Black kind; the Latino kind; and the Gay kind. I also realized that the Asian
performer was a representation of all men of the Asian type, the black performer
represented all black men, etc. In fact, if one attended the event, one could
ostensibly walk away having had a comprehensive experience of each and every man
who has ever lived on earth.

According to sources which do not wish to be identified, when Performance
Czar Tim Miller discovered that the aforementioned production The Undead was
being considered for presentation at LACE as part of the L.A. Festival, he wrote
both to the space and to one (or more) of the producers of the festival, warning
that his wrath would fall if it were considered further, explaining that it would
offend the gay community, as it displayed gays in a negative light.

Perhaps Mr. Miller is psychic or clairvoyant, as he arrived at these
opinions concerning The Undead without having seen it first. Perhaps Mr. Miller
was upset that he had not been invited to participate. Perhaps he was upset
because he is opposed to the works of the writer, Dennis Cooper, whose body of
work contains, among other things, dead fag bodies.

Mr. Miller explained in the letters that he was afraid The Undead would be
perceived as obscene by "the" gay "community." Hmmm. Sounds familiar, Mr.
Miller. 1 have an idea. In an effort to prevent the production of any work
which Mr. Miller may find obscene, perhaps there should be some kind of
governmental agency assigned to determine which works of art should be prevented
on the basis of such obscenity. Maybe Mr. Miller could form such an organization

TCR #2 - 15

himself. After all, only Mr. Miller could possibly know what is obscene in the
opinion of Mr. Miller. A few months ago I saw Mr. Miller on the Ron Reagan Show
chiding Lou Sheldon for wishing to control the content of art works. That's odd.
Perhaps Mr. Miller has more in common with Mr. Sheldon than he realizes. If they
would only pool their resources, they could get so much more accomplished.

Ms. S, one of our community's "white heterosexual women" artists, was at
one time working very closely as an assistant to the “white heterosexual male"
artist who founded the Los Angeles Poverty Department, a Homeless Theater
project. The last project she did with them was called Condo at Thieve's Corner,
an outdoor installation/performance event which was produced as a part of a site-
specific series produced by LACE. During the event, Ms. S. got into a
confrontation with one of the performers (the MC) back-stage, explaining to him
that he was staying on stage too long between acts, and that one of the functions
of an MC is to keep things moving.

He responded by calling her a "bitch", physically attacking her, and
throwing her against a wall. (Ms. S is a very tiny woman). Though the attack
was witnessed by a number of the homeless performers and the white heterosexual
male director, no one raised a finger to help her. Over the coming months, Ms.
S. sought the services of a chiropractor and a psychiatrist to remedy the
physical and emotional injuries she had sustained as a direct result of the
attack. Ms. S. racked up doctor bills in excess of $10,000.00. Being poor and
without insurance, she turned to the organization which produced the Los Angeles
Poverty Department for assistance in paying the bills. The Organization totally
sided with the individual who had attacked her without any investigation
whatsoever, even though many people who had been present during the attack were
willing to verify Ms. S.‘s story.

Unable to arrive at any other logical solution to settle the debt which she
had incurred, Ms. S. sought legal help to sue the organization for damages.
Unbeknownst to Ms. S., and several months after her initial consultation, Ms.
S.'s lawyer sent a letter/summons to the organization, alerting them to the fact
that he intended to begin litigating that matter.

The Los Angeles Poverty Department received news of the lawyer's letter one
week before they were scheduled to open Highways Performance Space's first
season. The Los Angeles Poverty Department told Tim Miller and Linda Burnham
about the impending legal action and threatened not to perform unless Ms. S.
withdrew the suit. Convinced that Ms. S. had personally seen to it that this
letter (of which she had no knowledge) would arrive specifically at this time in
order to defame and ruin the gala opening of Highways, and again, without
launching any kind of investigation, Highways, in the form of Tim Miller,
attempted to coax Ms. S. to retract the suit.

During his conversation with Ms. S., Mr. Miller cited her rumored history
of erratic behavior, informed her that immediately prior to the attack she had
called her attacker a "nigger" (not true) and implied ("through what seemed like
intimidation") that she had in fact gotten what she had coming to her. When
coaxing didn't work, Mr. Miller resorted to ideology and propriety, reminding her
that artists just don't do thing like that to each other (law suits, etc.) as all
artists are part of the same community. Seeing that this train of thought was
ineffective as well, he proceeded to threaten her, reminding her of the ominous
powers he has at his finger tips. He used the term "Black Ball" to describe the
process by which he would systematically defame her and prevent her from getting
work.

TCR #2 - 16

When he realized that she would not be moved and did not agree that she
Should accept that what had been done to her was her rightful due, he contacted
Ms. R., long time friend and Teacher/Mentor of Ms. S., and one of L.A.'s most
respected Performance Artists, warning her that she must use her persuasive
powers to control Ms. S. in such a way as to make her drop the law suit. He
began with the same trail of threats and manipulation he had attempted to use on
Ms. S., culminating in a reminder ("through what seemed like intimidation") that
he and Ms. Burnham sat on many granting panels and would not hesitate to use
these positions to see to it that Ms. R. and Ms. S. would receive no grant funds
to produce their art within the future.

Ms. R., of course, did not comply with Mr. Miller's demands, and did not
attempt in any way to control the actions of Ms. S. Unable to believe that she
had been threatened in this way, and in an attempt to clarify their telephone
conversation, Ms. R. wrote a letter to Mr. Miller detailing the terms and
conditions of his threats as he had set them forth, and asking him to respond
with verification of same. Mr. Miller did not respond to Ms. R.'s letter.

I hope that this letter can facilitate an adjustment in the stance of
Highways Performance Space and High Performance Magazine, as I strongly believe
that such a change is possible and very necessary. I have been on the scene here
in Los Angeles for seven years and I have seen both the good and the damage that
Highways has caused to this "community" since its opening. I can assure you, if
the reason there weren't many "people of color" performing on the scene before
Highways (you know, that one "multicultural" space) opened was evidence of some
kind of institutionalized White Supremacist plot on the part of Weba Garretson,
Scott Kellman, Joy Silverman and the other individuals who were programming the
events at spaces like LACE, the Wallenboyd, the Lhasa Club, I will gladly eat
this letter along with a portion of my own hand.

I have been afraid that my reaction to all of this would be interpreted as
racist and so have not addressed these issues directly to Highways or High
Performance Magazine until now. It's really a perfect set up. If you don't like
something about Highways, the reason is either (a) Racism; (b) Homophobia; (c)
Sexism; or (d) Political Conservatism.

I know that I speak for many artists in this "community", both
"multicultural" artists and "white" artists too, who find this situation to be
exploitative but have stood by and watched, afraid to speak out against what they
see is wrong. And who could blame them? Mr. Miller is a very powerful fascist
and will stop at nothing to get his way, as evidenced in the stories I have set
forth in this letter.

Racism, classism, patriotic nationalism, sexism, religionism, poverty and
lack of adequate education prevent people access to accomplishing what they wish
to do. These and other barriers must be broken down for the benefit of everyone.
However, special privileges and means of advancement must not be given to one
group of people while being denied another, whatever the race of the individual
groups which benefit. When provisions are made to advance the career of one
individual on the basis of race or sexual preference, everyone suffers. Even
those who appear to benefit.

Very truly,
Curtis York, Danish-English Mongrel (White Trash) Performance Artist

TCR #2 - 17

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Peter Petrisko, Jr.

PUBLISHER'S INTRODUCTION TO CHEROTIC MAGIC

by
KYLE GRIFFITH

This introduction is being written over a year after Cherotic Magic first
went into circulation. I realized I needed to write it while replying to a
letter from a book store manager which said, "This is assuredly a singular book
which is hard to categorize, very much tied to Frank Moore's personal tuition and
not your usual do-it-yourself type of self-help occult manual." The writer
wasn't making an outright refusal to stock the book in his store -- he wanted to
see the rest of our S/R Press publications before deciding which ones, if any,
to order -- but he seemed headed in that direction, and my natural inclination
was to argue with him. I started drafting a letter to him which began:

"The main reason why Cherotic Magic is being published by Spiritual
Revolution Press, which specializes in works too controversial or ‘hard to
categorize’ for other Occult or New Age publishers is simply because it is so
closely 'tied to Frank Moore's personal tuition.’ It's very easy for publishers,
and book-sellers to jump to the conclusion that the only potential readers for
Such a work would be people interested in studying directly with the author, but
I don't agree. In my opinion, the text any genuine shaman uses to teach his
complete magical system to his full-time apprentices should appeal to every
reader seriously interested in the field, because it would give an entirely
different viewpoint on the shamanic teaching process than most books on the
Subject now in circulation -- detailed descriptions of the apprenticeship are
invariably written from the student's perspective. When shamanic teachers write
books, they normally deal more with theory and generalities than with the
essential practical details of their teachings.

"For example, I once asked Lame Deer why he didn't write a book containing
the detailed information about the Ogalala shamanic system he taught to his
apprentices, to supplement the more general religious, philosophical, and
political material in his published work. He replied that he did have notes for
such a text, in Lakota, but that he felt the teachings would lose most of their
wakan if translated into English. Then he tied this in with requiring his
apprentices to eat only buffalo meat, never beef, so they'd absorb wakan with
their food. I couldn't think of any arguments against his point, but I still
wished there was some way the public could have access to the full extent of his
knowledge.

"Anyway, I feel that Cherotic Magic should be 'required reading’ for anyone
who is seriously studying shamanism. In my opinion, Frank Moore is as ‘real' a
Shaman as any of the people described in the shamanic literature presently on
your shelves -- and I don't even have to present arguments to support this claim,
because Frank's international reputation as a 'shamanic performance artist’
speaks for itself. Also, he's one of the only well-known shamans who thinks in
English and works his magic within a cultural context familiar to the average
American reader."

This is as far as I got before I realized I was wasting my time -- the
book-seller would just reply, "You may be right that Cherotic Magic is an
important primary-source document about shamanic teaching, but how many of the
people who leaf through the book on my shelves are going to already be aware of
what you pointed out in your letter? And how many will recognize Frank Moore's

TCR #2 - 19

name? ‘Performance art' is a small, specialized field, and you shouldn't assume
the average reader of spiritual books is familiar with it." It became instantly
obvious to me that I really should say all this in an introduction to the book
itself, so that every potential reader could see it. I also realized that there
are still other things I can say in an introduction that will increase both the
book's reader-appeal and its effectiveness in communicating Frank's message, so
I decided to go ahead and say them.

First, I now think it's important to tell the readers of Cherotic Magic,
right up front, exactly who Frank Moore is. The text itself contains fragments
of personal information about him, but nothing approaching a full description.
I thought this was completely appropriate, viewing the book in isolation before
it was published, but a year of writing and editing material to promote Cherotic
Magic has forced me to change my mind. I now believe that the book itself should
contain a summary of the information about Frank that's mentioned in most of the
reviews and articles about him that we reprint to promote the book. I've
already described Frank as "the only 100% bonafide shaman I've known personally
who thinks in English and describes his magical system in images derived mainly
from our Western culture," but there's a lot more to him than that -- he's also
one of the best examples of "success against all the odds" I've ever met.

Frank Moore was born so severely disabled with cerebral palsy that he has
to be fed and taken care of almost like an infant. He can't speak or control any
of his muscles except a few in his head and neck. He converses with people by
using a pointer attached to his head to pick out letters on a Quija-board-like
device (which he invented as a teen-ager) fastened to the arms of his wheelchair.

What has this "99% disabled" man done with his life? Well, he's earned two
masters degrees in fine arts and become one of the best known performance artists
in the country. He's been a guest lecturer at the drama departments of many
different colleges and universities, including NYU, the Chicago Art Institute,
and UC Berkeley. He's had numerous articles, poems, and essays published. His
movie, Out of Isolation, and a number of shorter video pieces have appeared
nationally on cable TV. And he even produces saleable oil] paintings with a brush
attached to his famous pointer!

If this was all there was to Frank Moore, he'd probably be a rich and
famous "mainstream" artist, lauded by magazines like Readers Digest as a Horatio
Alger-type example of "the crip who made good." In reality, during the late
Sixties, Frank "dropped out," hitch-hiked from one coast to the other in his
wheelchair, and joined a Hippie commune. Since then, he's always lived in group
marriages and worked on the leading edge of the artistic avant garde. He's not
only one of the best known contemporary performance artists, he's also one of the
most controversial -- right up there on Jesse Helms' "hit list of obscene
artists" along with Annie Sprinkle and Karen Finley. Inmy opinion, if I had to
Single out one aspect of Frank's activities as being more important to the
universal humanistic goal of “building a more advanced civilization on this
planet" than the rest, I'd be forced to pass over both his art and his magic in
favor of his work as a "freedom fighter."

In the text of Cherotic Magic, Frank names such non-violent crusaders for
personal freedom and human rights as Mohandas Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr.
among the people who have inspired him the most, and it's obvious to me that he's
doing his best to follow their example. He's easily the most radical and most
courageous opponent of artistic censorship I know -- he doesn't just take on the
political reactionaries, the religious bigots, and both the commercial and the

TCR #2 - 20

academic wings of the "Art Establishment," he's even willing to criticize other
"underground" artists whenever they lapse into censorship. And as he also says
in Cherotic Magic, on the most basic level, his art, his shamanism, and his
political activism are all parts of one whole.

Second, I also feel that this introduction needs to answer the charge that
Frank's Cherotic Apprenticeship is reactionary, exploitative, and "cultish"
because it requires students to relate to the teacher with complete trust and
obedience, and asserts that people should value their relationships with others
more than their individuality. A number of the reviews of Cherotic Magic
published so far have made this charge by innuendo rather than directly, and a
few people have mentioned it to me in so many words in private letters and
conversations. I've also determined by experiment that randomly opening the book
and browsing through it, as so many shoppers do in book stores, can create a
Similar impression. I know from personal experience that there's nothing even
remotely “cultish" or exploitative about Frank's teaching methods, but I do feel
it's necessary, at this point, to fully explain this matter.

In reality, Frank's methods are "authoritarian" in the sense that his
apprentices are required to let him take complete control over their lives,
twenty-four hours a day, for the whole time they study with him. If this sounds
cultish to you, remember that all of us spend the first few years of our lives
in such a relationship, trusting our parents to make all our decisions for us.
Frank asks his students to enter such a relationship with him simply because he
realizes that, in order to become shamanic magicians, they must make radical
changes in their existing patterns of thinking and feeling -- patterns originally
forced on them against their will by coercive families, schools, etc. In other
words, Frank is not functioning as a cult leader, but as a deprogrammer. And
he's doing it by creating a relationship with his students similar to the one of
total love, trust, and obedience that young children have for their parents.
However, unlike cult-deprogrammers and parents, Frank is operating with his
apprentices' informed consent.

In order to enter the apprenticeship, students first have to take
elementary-level courses with Frank that give them first-hand experience with his
system, then they sign a written agreement that spells out exactly what they're
getting into. Another detail which shows that the Cherotic Apprenticeship is the
exact opposite of a cult is the fact that it's hard to get into and easy to get
out of. Because Frank puts so much time and effort into working with each of his
apprentices, he can only accept a few at a time, and turns down most of the
people who apply. And not only are apprentices free to leave the program if
they're dissatisfied with it, Frank also sends away anyone he feels is not making
Satisfactory progress.

And I've also been asked, “Is Frank's system really the best way to become
a magician, or are better ways available?" I don't have a definite answer to
that, but let's take a look at some of the alternatives. Many of the magical
training systems that might be mentioned are much more authoritarian than Frank's
Cherotic Apprenticeship, but are cleverly designed to hide their true nature.
This is especially true of systems based on any kind of organized religion --
Eastern, Western, or Third World. Any system that requires trust in deities or
obedience to "divinely revealed" doctrine is also authoritarian -- but there's
no way the authority-figures can be held personally accountable for their
actions. The priests, preachers, gurus, etc. can all "pass the buck Upstairs."
Frank, on the other hand, takes full personal responsibility for everything he
does.

TCR #2 - 21

Other systems are, in my opinion, non-totalitarian and non-coercive, but
also extremely inefficient at actually teaching students what they want to learn.
I've observed large numbers of people using various "New Age" systems ever since
the movement started about twenty years ago, and about the only skills most of
them seem to learn are "how to turn wishful thinking into full-fledged self-
delusion" and "how to convince suckers you're a great and powerful magician."
I remain convinced that "no pain, no gain" is one of the laws of nature, and that
Frank is completely reasonable in insisting that all successful magical training
involves risk, hard work, and self-discipline. It also appears self-evident to
me that the only way to benefit from having a "teacher of magic" is through
complete trust and obedience.

The only other alternative is to become a magician entirely on one's own,
without a teacher or a formal training system. This is the path that Frank
followed himself, and he says that one of the main reasons he's now a teacher of
magic is to help students avoid his mistakes and all the frustration, pain, and
danger they cost him. Again, the logic of this is self-evident.

Does this mean that I'm encouraging every student of magic who reads this
book to enter Frank's apprenticeship or that I believe other magicians and
Shamans should teach their systems using the methods described in Cherotic Magic?
Not at all. In my opinion, his teaching methods could be successfully imitated
only by another magician who was almost identical to him -- physically as well
as in personality, and I also feel that only a tiny percentage of the students
now studying shamanic magic are temperamentally suited to getting maximum benefit
out of Frank's system -- only those who are willing to dedicate themselves to
Frank's performance-art activities and who identify totally with his lifestyle
and opinions.

Why, then, do I feel that every student and teacher of Shamanic magic
should read this book? Simply because it gives the reader an extremely detailed
description of how a shamanic teacher leads his students through the process of
"reality creation" -- how he assists them in deprogramming the personality
structures that have been forced on them by all aspects of their environment
(physical, intellectual, emotional, and psychic), and in reprogramming themselves
with the structures described in Cherotic Magic. I don't expect that many
readers will want to create Frank's exact "reality" for themselves, or that
they'll be able to use the same methods he employs, but I do believe that quite
a few of them will be able to absorb some of the "non-verbal, non-linear essence"
of his system and incorporate it into their own shamanic practices, whether as
students or as teachers. And I also feel that reading the book will encourage
some people to attend Frank's audience-participation performances or do some kind
of in-person study with him -- which give them an even better opportunity to
absorb some of his ability to "create reality."

Kyle Griffith
May 9, 1992

TCR #2 - 22

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© 1985 JOHN SEABURY

REVIEW OF FRANK MOORE'S “PASSIONS PLAY" PERFORMANCE by STAVROS KRYSIAK

I, STAVROS experienced a unique event, in which I was shamanized by Frank
Moore at an event billed as the "Passions Play." I met Frank on GEnie, where I
learned that Frank Moore had been investigated by Jesse Helms. I was intrigued
with Frank's posts about his Shamanistic Art, and when the opportunity came for
me to attend his Passions Play, I couldn't resist. I had to go to find out what
a Shaman was and what he did.

On Saturday March 7, I drove to Oakland, to an artist studio located on the
waterfront near Jack London Square. I knew at once that I was at the right place
when I saw a woman standing in front of a building with a blanket. Frank had
instructed us to bring a blanket.

I entered the studio where I could hear aman singing. It was a chant and
his voice would move from high tones down to low ones, as he periodically
Slapped his body to the mantra he was singing. He was naked. His body was
covered only with body paint, as were two other painted men, who walked around
those of us sitting on the floor. They moved ever so gracefully and ever so
Slowly.

After about a half hour or more, one of the men came up to people sitting
on the floor and ask them if they wished to be prepared to see the shaman, who
was in his cave. The cave was behind the curtain in the front of the room. At
this point, one couple decided this wasn't for them and they left the room, never
to experience the visit to the shaman.

Those that elected to go were taken in pairs. They were first blindfolded.
Before they were led to the front of the room, where the entrance to the cave was
Situated, they were kissed on both cheeks.

We could hear weird sounds coming from the shaman in the cave. A very
beautiful naked woman, who was also decorated with body paint came out of the
cave. She walked up to the blindfolded participant and gave instructions. They
were given a cup containing a magical formula, which tasted mysteriously like
water. This, they were told, would release their inhibitions. Then they were
taken to the cave.

Some would come back sooner than others. Some came back naked, others
fully dressed. One young man hadn't come out yet, when it was my turn. He was
one of the first to go in. After drinking the magic formula I was lead into the
cave. My instructions were not to speak in words and only in sounds.

When I left the cave I was instructed to go back to my nest and not to
reveal what had happened in there. And I will not break that word even for this
review.

After I came out, I was asked by an elderly gentleman if it was a positive
experience. I gave him a thumbs up. Later, when he came out he gave me the
thumbs up sign.

After all had entered the cave and returned to their nests, we prepared to
see the shaman. Until this moment I had touched Frank Moore and had written to
him on GEnie but I had never seen him.

TCR #2 - 24

The Shaman enters and he is placed naked in a wheelchair. Before my very
eyes is that great intellect I have come to respect on the GEnie Bulletin Boards.

Then to the tune of music, fe made the most God awful animal sounds and
grunts. There was a happy smile on his face. I had read other reviews of his
work, where they refer to Frank's grotesque body, but I couldn't see the
grotesqueness. I saw a very happy person.

Frank was later strapped into the wheelchair. They placed a head band on
his head, which had a pointer attached to it. In front of him there was a word
board. Frank, who was born with Cerebral Palsy, couldn't control the muscles
of 90% of his body. He cannot speak and using the only muscles he can control,
his neck muscles, he communicated to us much like he communicates on GEnie, only
using the word board instead of a key board. It's his survival in this state,
as a happy being, that gives him the power to be a shaman.

We then followed his instructions and prepared to die, so we could be
reborn. As 1 laid on the floor, death visited me and took off my clothes. I was
prepared to be reborn. About 40 naked bodies huddled together in the center of
the room. It was a cool evening and the body warmth of skin against skin brought
warmth to each of us in our bodies and in our hearts. A group of adult men and
women were playfully pretending that they were these creatures of evolution.
Bodies were rubbing against bodies. Not since I was a naked babe, have I
remembered my sense of touch being so fulfilled. My cup of the delight of touch
had runneth over. We were single cell beings, multiple cells, seaweed, ants,
birds, and other creatures until we evolved to that human form of a child, who
was ready for eroplay.

Eroplay is a word coined by Frank Moore. It is a non-sexual but erotic
playing. Unlike sex there is no climax. Magically, we were brought to the place
where we were ready to be taught eroplay.

We were broken up randomly, mostly into pairs, but some in threesomes. The
pairs would be aman and a woman, two men, or two women. At random times we were
randomly moved to different partners. We received random instructions to rub
your belly, or rub your partner's belly. Rub cheeks. Rub butts. Lay on top of
your partner touching their whole body with your whole body. Embrace and rock
back and forth. Touch genitals.

Then we watched the great shaman perform the most erotic eroplay with a
woman. In all my life I never have seen anything as erotic, as that woman
playing with Frank. We were mesmerized, as he played with her. Strobe lights
flashed as assistants came out and covered us with Saran Wrap and foil. It was
a sight to behold, as we engaged in spontaneous eroplay under a blanket of wrap,
which connected us all. By the end of the evening I found myself filled to
capacity with the child-like eroplay. It transformed me to another world. I
broke taboos I never dreamed of breaking. It felt good. It was a safe place for
ale US.

I said good-bye to the shaman at about 3 AM. As I was ready to leave I
Stopped to watch three men engaged in eroplay. It was beautiful. I felt
beautiful, the shaman was beautiful. I exited the magical cave and entered the
world of taboos, left with the memory of a magical experience that will be with
me forever.

Thus Stavros was shamanized.

TCR #2 - 26

ister-relations
p.o.box 11445

berkeley, ca 94701-2445

(510) 526 7858

fairy tales can come true
THIS IS A FILM ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS AND DISABILITY

STARRING FRANK MOORE, WHO HAS BEEN DISABLED
SINCE BIRTH WITH CEREBRAL PALSY. IT IS A HUMOR-
OUS, YET REALISTIC LOOK AT HOW TO ESTABLISH
RELATIONSHIPS BY CHANGING NEGATIVE SELF IMAGE.

copyrighted 1981 35 minutes

erotic play
THIS VIDEO EXPLORES WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE

OF ALL TYPES AND AGES ARE GIVEN A CHANCE TO
RETURN TO BEING A KID AGAIN. A SIMPLE GAME OF
DRESS-UP BECOMES A POWERFUL METAPHOR FOR
DROPPING TABOOS, RELEASING CREATIVE EMOTION,
AND FOR DRAMATIC CHANGE. AS A RESULT, AN INNO-
CENT EROTICISM IS FOUND... AS WELL AS GETTING
INTIMATE WITH 60 HUMANS.

copyrighted 1983 84 minutes

outrageous dream
A SURREAL, VISUAL POEM OF FOUND IMAGES.

copyrighted 1984 4] mines

the nude cave
AN EROTIC, SURREALISTIC VIDEO DREAM THAT

COMBINES NON-LINEAR IMAGES AND FRANK’S
ORIGINAL MUSIC SCORE.

one Size Only TO ORDER

black print
$10 pus $3 1 ta tes
ties *

ay he “7856

THIS RAW VIDEO DOCUMENTS THE TACKY, MUSICAL,
OVER-THE-EDGE COMEDY REVUE THAT FRANK
CREATED, DIRECTED AND PERFORMED IN. THE SHOW
RAN ON A WEEKLY BASIS POR THREE AND ONE HALF ~
YEARS AT THE MABUHAY GARDENS IN SAN FRANCISCO
IN ADDITION TO A NUMBER OF OTHER NORTHERN
CALIFORNIA AND NEVADA PERFORMANCES. FRANK
PERFORMED ALONG WITH THE THIRTY PEOPLE WHO
MADE UP HIS THEATRE GROUP, “the theatre of human
melting.”

copyrighted 1980 apprax. 30 minues

out of isolation
A SURREAL EROTIC EXAMINATION OF AN INTIMATE

RELATIONSHIP OF NEED. STARRING FRANK MOORE
AND LINDA SIBEO.

copyrighted 1989 105 minutes

chero collage

ATTEMPTS TO CAPTURE THE TRANCE STATE OF LIVE,
SHAMANISTIC PERFORMANCE COMBINING FOOTAGE
OF SEVERAL OF chero company’s RITUALS INTO A
REALITY-WARPING VIDEO.

copyrighted 1992 27 mines

the outrageous horror show
A LIVE CABARET SHOW THAT BREAKS THROUGH THE

LIMITING TABOOS, THROUGH MESSY NIGHTMARES,
INTO THE DREAMS OF ALL POSSIBILITIES.

ATRA LARGE cart OR WRITE

on waite tshirt INTER-RELATIONS |

r45

BOOKS /ZiN@S
by “Prauk Moore

art of living
A GUIDE TO DOWN-TO EARTH SPIRITUALITY AS

CHANNELLED BY FRANK MOORE. $10 )

published 1987

art of a shaman

IN art of a shaman, ORIGINALLY A LECTURE
PRESENTED AT N.Y.U., FRANK MOORE EXPLORES
PERFORMANCE AND ART IN GENERAL TERMS OF
THEM BEING A MAGICAL WAY TO EFFECT CHANGE
IN THE WORLD. HE LOOKS AT PERFORMANCE AS AN
NARO AN aU CP NG ON MIO AUS LOM WNC
DI@) NIGNIATEA AION MED MUNI MOR SINE Guta cw ID Blige
INS MEY NSA N ae @1O)- 1 DUAN SLANT HG
PLAYING WITHIN THE CONTEXT OF REALITY SHAPING.
HE BRINGS IN CONCEPTS FROM MODERN PHYSICS,
MYTHOLOGY, AND PSYCHOLOGY. COVER BY
LABASH.

published 1991

cherotic magic
PVN (@) a NSi a On il i@)0] 0G -an@) kia dae)

SYSTEM OF MAGIC INTO OUR MODERN WESTERN
EVERYDAY LIFE, THEREBY EXPLOSIVELY EXPANDING
SUCH CONCEPTS AS SEX, HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS.
THE CLEAR, DOWN-TO-EARTH TEXT IS AMPLIFIED BY
THE NON-LINEAR TRANCE ILLUSTRATIONS BY
LABASH.

published 1990

the cherotic revolutionary
A MAGAZINE ABOUT THE EDGE. issue #0

issue # }

issue #2

cultural subversion
PERSONAL, ANARCHICAL TECHNOLOGIES SUCH AS

XEROGRAPHY, VCR, FAXS, ETC., ARE EXAMINED IN
cultural subversion BY FRANK MOORE AS THE
MEANS BY WHICH ORDINARY PEOPLE CAN TAKE
BACK THE CONTROL OF COMMUNICATIONS AND
CREATIVITY FROM THE CENTRAL POWER

COMBINE. published 1992 c&>

ALSO FROM S/R PRESS

war in heaven by Kyle Griffith .... $18

the spiritual revolutionary vol. 1
Bound Volume issues 0-9 .... $20

the spiritual revolutionary
Individual issues .... $3
Sample issue .... $1

TO ORDER: Call or write S/R Press
P.O. Box 60327, Palo Alto, CA 94306-0327

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REVIEWS

The Cherotic Rvolutionary #2
July 1992

(TC(r)#2) “is fuckin’ great! A little weird, but fuckin’ great!

I love the art work. It lends a whole new meaning to the word
psychedelic. I enjoyed the surrealism also. Being somewhat of an artist
& musician I enjoy it all provided it is done well. Or beauty is in the eye
or ear of the beholder. I guess-’

Uncle Junky, editor of Yello Submarine ‘Zine

“The Cherotic Revolutionary...is right out there on the artistic edge,
(Frank Moore is) reveling in the use of eros to make his points about
freedom.”

Factsheet Five

“I personally cannot live up to the society-cracking dares that Moore
issues (in “The Cherotic Revolutionary )... Seriously, one of the more
thought-provoking items...”

Ivan Stang, (SubGenius Magazine) Stark Fist

“TCR is a beautiful tragedy. A symbolism of creativity:
Merle Tofer, artist

“The new TCR is remarkable. It keeps getting more outrageous, more
independent, more tender. A magazine of such sensual splendor should
be considered by the American government as a national treasure!!”
Merle Tofer, artist

“I anxiously await (the next issue of ) TC(r) as it is one of my most
favorite publications. Reading TC(r) is analogous to having a mystical
experience.’

Spiros, Open Forum (Greece)

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary “A zine about “The Edge’ for and by people
on The Edge ... if not over The Edge.” Published and edited by Frank
Moore and Linda Mac. Frank is a shamanistic teacher, author, and
performer whose zine reflects the Berkeley I remember - sexual, artistic,
bold, yet soft, loving, and at times, crippled (what is the PC word?) - less
than perfect (like the rest of us). Articles, poems, photos, commentary,
posters.

The Whole Sex Catalog Supplement, 1995, Synergy Book Service

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NUMBER

The Cherotic rEvolutionary is a zine
about “The Edge” for and by people
on The Edge...if not over The Edge.

TCR is published by Inter-Relations.
The publishers/editors are Frank
Moore and Linda Mac. The art editor
is Michael LaBash, and the circulation
manager is Alexi Malenky.

The price for this issue is $5.00 per
copy. We don’t sell subscriptions, to
avoid tying ourselves down to a rigid
publication schedule or magazine size.
We want to remain free to publish
frequently or larger issues at longer
intervals and adjust the price accord-

ingly.

All material is copyrighted 1993 in

the names of the individual authors/
artists. Material by Moore or LaBash
may be reprinted as is without ad-
vance permission — but please inquire
before reprinting material by the other
contributors. Of course, we would like
copies of all reprints from the maga-
zine, and we’d also like to see copies
of all reviews or comments on TCR.

We heartily encourage letters of com-
ment from readers and will answer as
many as we can. Please tell us if you
don’t want us to print material from
your letter — otherwise we will assume
it’s OK.

Please address all correspondence and

orders for magazines to:

Frank Moore, POBox 11445, Berkeley,
CA 94701-2445

Annie Sprinkle “Eve”
photo by Richard Silvarnes

Frankly Speaking
by Frank Moore

Letters

Glory! Gloryhole-leluhia!

by Veronica Vera

photos by Wink Van Kempen, Robert
Mapplethorpe and Annie Sprinkle

Oeidipus Pete
by R. (Dixit) Cohn
artwork by LaBash

Annie Sprinkle

bubblehead por.irit by Lee Kay
“Ellen/Annie”
“Annie/Anya”
“My Formal Sex Teachers”
by Annie Sprinkle,
photos by Marc Trunz, Amy
Ardrey and Annie Sprinkle

I’m Just a Pubic Hair
for Someone Bigger
by Merle Toféer

artwork by LaBash

Battle of the Sexes
by Luna Sanguine

The Trumpet Player
by Dorothy Jesse Beagle

Linda Carmella Sibio
photo by Jan Deen

Frank Moore’s
“Philosophy of Art” 1987

Mikee
self-portrait by LaBash

g U } a BY frank moore’s
7 joe € chero company
body music :
EXPLORING THE HUMAN BODY AS MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.

90 minutes

inter-rhythms
PRIMAL MUSIC CREATED FOR FRANK MOORE'S RITUAL PERFORMANCES.

90 minutes

nude cave soundtrack
THE NONLINEAR ELECTRONIC MUSIC COMPOSED AND PERFORMED BY FRANK

MOORE FOR THE FEATURE LENGTH VIDEO. 1/0 minutes

rock of passion
THE SOUNDTRACK OF the outrageous horror show, FRANK THE ROCKSTAR SINGS
HIS HEART OUT, LITERALLY COVERING THE GREAT HITS OF ROCK, COUNTRY,
‘* - AND HEAVY METAL ... INCLUDING SUCH SMASHES AS i am woman, 1 got you
Ss seas ASS Vs (4g =| . babe, AND hand of doom ...
eoees a pe
oe oe ee ee ee ee et
‘oe ae Se Se Se Se Se ee eee me
toa va Pilg hag Me trance rap
WRITTEN BY FRANK MOORE AND SUNG/CHANTED BY MICHAEL LABASH WITH
A BACKGROUND OF BODY MUSIC, trance rap IS AN AUDIO INTRODUCTION TO
} % F, : CHEROTIC MAGIC COVERING SUCH SUBJECTS AS eroplay, the plot of fragmenta-
, PK tion AND magic art. ALSO INCLUDED IS THE POEM wrapping/rocking.
A;

‘
<i

30 minutes

to order eatl or writes inter-relations, p.o. box 11445,
berkeley, CA 94701-2445 telephone (510)526-7858

~,

Desktop Publishing

17
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: Professional graphic design services on the Mac

u
; ULI

one Size only TO ORDER
XTRA LARGE Cait OR WRITE

on ine fehirt INTER-RELATIONS
$10 plus $3 BOX 11445

FO.
shipping BERKELEY, CA
and handling - 9401-2445 |

(510) 526-7858

Call Michael at 510.526.7858

There are changes
around here. Well, what do you ex-
pect from a zine with “revolution” as its last
name? And that may be one of the changes ... our
name appears to be in the process of changing itself from
The Cherotic Revolutionary to The Cherotic Evolutionary. A
revolution is a mutation from the normal as-is reality, an experi-
ment and an adventure into newness. The purpose of a revolution, and
any mutation, is to break new ground for evolution ... to prod evolution
along. Revolution, if it is to be successful, must be a tool, not an end. But we
will have to wait until the next issue to see if our name really does change. ¥
Another important change is we have created Inter-Relations to take over the
publishing chores of both TCR and my book Cherotic Magic from S/R Press. I owe
a lot to Kyle Griffith of S/R Press. He was the one who pushed for the publishing of
the book ... and then strongly suggested we come out with a zine. ¥ So this is the first
Inter-Relations publication. (Very soon, we will be coming out with a revised edition
of Cherotic Magic.) So now being both the editors and the publishers, Linda and I along
with LaBash are totally to blame (or to praise) for this. By the way, we don’t accept
blame through the mail! ¥ Magically we got our hands on a Mac computer and a laser
printer...which explains the embarrassing good quality of this. It does not mean my
rich aunt died ... or that i sold out. In fact, we had to break the material we have into
half. What you have in your hand is just the first half. The next issue will be the
second half. ¥ In the past issues, I walked you around to meet everyone in the
issues. But there are just too many artists in this one to do that. You know
Mapplethorpe and Annie Sprinkle and Veronica Vera as sexual artists. If you’re
in the know in the art world, you probably know Linda Carmella Sibio as
the Los Angeles performance artist who does things like a musical on
suicide. If you are into poetry, you probably know Mer! Tofer as a
neo-beat ... who is trying to take the crown of the king of name-
droppers away from me. (check out his new poetry book
Sensitized to Pain with LaBash’s illustrations.) If you
read TCR before, you know the work of
Dorothy Jesse Beagle, Lee Kay, and Luna.
And we all should have known
Dixie Cohn. %

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The Cherotic rEvolutionary 5 4

4 April 1993

August 5, 1992
Dear Frank,

“...The artwork/photography
in TCR V1 I2 7/92 is quite something!
Petrisko’s ‘Simulation/Stimulation’
looked like a PXL still to me at first,
then I saw the medium was digitized
photography. But moore than that
(pun intended!), The Beast Cpage 10)
could be in The Church of the Sub-
Genius ‘zine — why is it in YOUR ‘zine?
Seabury’s fucking pig art is cool!!!
Wonder what the anti-porn fems —
would say about it!?!...”

Yours in freedom

Cwhat’s left of it)

Brenda Tatelbaum
Publisher

Eidos Magazine

Dear Frank,

“...the Pleasure Dome Collective
is very enthusiastic about your work...

“I found the tapes amazing....
I was surprised and deeply impressed
by the gentleness and sense of commu-
nity that I got watching you and your
group perform. We live in a world
where there is so much hatred and in
that hatred is such a fear and loathing
of bodies and human interaction. But
in your tapes I saw people interact in
such a way that hatred was overcome
and was replaced by comfort, kindness
and understanding.

“(In Chero Collage) the audi-
ence is led in, sat down, some get a
massage by naked, painted members
of your group. Then you’re brought
in and lain across a member of the
audience and then carried on stage.
It seemed so simple yet I felt you
were addressing many complex
issues surrounding our relation-
ship to our own, and others, bodies.

We wear clothes all the time continu-
ally denying that we and those around
us have bodies under the clothes. Your
tapes have made me think a great deal
about how sexualized, regulated and
forbidden bodies have become. I was
continually encouraged by the fact
that in each of your videos the people
on stage or around stage seemed to re-
ally enjoy what they were doing....
“In The Outrageous Horror
Show) there are certain moments that
have an absurd beauty that I am un-
able to describe .... What I found in
your work was a desexualization of
the body that challenged taboos sur-
rounding the body. When this rigid
sexualization is removed, the sensual
and erotic joy of touching, and explor-
ing reacquaints the viewer (and par-
ticipants) with the personal strength
that can be gained through this
reacknowledgement of bodies and the
selves that reside inside those bodies.
“I found your work to be both
challenging and inspirational....”

Marnie Parrell,
Pleasure Dome, Toronto

“In some way,
if a life-style or a drug
culture or a mode or an artistic

it will, I think, put itself in a
position where it won’t be ac-

its value is not revolutionary.”

JUDITH MALINA
Living Theater

tendency has any intrinsic power,

cepted. If it can be contained, then

“Glory!
Glory

hole-leluhia!”

by Veronica Vera

Whipmother
photo by Wink Van Kempen 1991

The Cherotic rEvolutionary 5

path to enlightenment began the day I put my
fingers in my underpants, felt my first moments of
heavenly bliss, then was slapped and informed, “God
does not like that.” Ostensibly, I accepted my mother’s
decree and prayed very hard that I could stay holy by
staying away from my hole. Subconsciously, I stamped
my maryjane’s in protest and determined that there
must be a way I could feel divine and still be good.

My quest has taken me literally and figuratively all
around the world. As I grew, so did my shoes, from
maryjane’s to “come-fuck-me” pumps. I became a
high-heeled journalist, writing about my sex life, inter-
viewing other people about theirs: commercial sex
workers, fetishists, s/m aficionados, swingers, trans-
genderists... the fields of my research spanned from
orgy to temple. One day, I made my first hard core
movie and became a porn star. Eventually, I under-
stood that I wanted to show my vulva to no one more
than I wanted to show it to myself.

Becoming a porn star, helped me work out my
personal sexual issues. When people ask what led me
to a career in the sex industry, I credit the inspiration
to a good Catholic education. Ironically, repression
laid a foundation for my exhibitionism. I have carried
this concept further to evolve a theory of sexual evolu-
tion - the idea that no practice is kinky, bizarre or per-
verse. In terms of each person’s development and ex-
perience, everything makes absolute sense. We are all
at different places in our sexual evolutions and we are
all entitled to our own path.

My research has given me a very special kind of
wisdom and for that I am grateful. If ’'d been an econ-
omist, I would understand motivation in terms of
who’s getting what and how much, instead, I look for
who’s getting off and how.

To me, sex is an intimate, nourishing force that
connects us with the energy of another person, with

ourselves, and with the universal energy of the cosmos.

Is sex always intimate - even anonymous sex? From
the people I know involved in sexual support groups, I
hear that it is popular to put yourself down for indulg-
ing in anonymous sexual encounters when you believe
these encounters will not get you what you want?
Such support groups are good. They provide a forum
for people to talk and learn about sex and a place to

G April 1993

get off aurally, if not orally. But we have a responsibil-
ity to beware of what we swallow. Let’s not forget
what we do get from sex. A trip to a glory hole will
not likely get you a steady date for the movies but it
will get you an intimate connection with another per-
son on this planet, a sharing in the universal energy
and a connection with yourself, if you choose to ap-
preciate sex that way. You can believe lust is a vice,
you can believe it is a virtue. Imagine two strangers
sharing a sexual encounter and ending it with the
words, “thank you.”

I once appeared on a television program with a
preacher who was anti-pornography and pro-censor-
ship. I really wanted to understand this man. I told
him that I believed in the goodness of humanity and
placed my trust in the choices of each individual. Since
he was advocating some sort of control by outside
parties, namely himself and others anointed to do the
job, did this mean that he believed that humanity was
essentially good or essentially bad? “I believe in the
total depravity of man,” he said, and then quoted
scripture, “Babies come forth from the womb speak-
ing lies.” How sad.

“Pornography” is not a word that I like to use
because it is too loaded with connotations. Most of
the time what we mean by pornography is explicit
sexual images. At base, these images are a celebration
of life, a celebration of humanity. If like this preacher,
we believe that humanity is essentially bad, then so are
the images that represent humanity recreating itself.
The reverend was misguided, but at least he was
consistent.

His was the kind of thinking that inspired the
spankings when I was caught “touching myself.” Even
as a child, I believed in the goodness of my self. I held
on to it like a bitch with her bone and refused to let it
go. But for a very long time, the primary emotion I ex-
perienced during sex was guilt, until guilt became the
ultimate aphrodisiac. Touch myself, feel good, get a
licking; feel good, get a licking; get a licking, feel good.

My experience was not unique. Our culture is
mired in guilt and this has kept us bound in chains of
fear and powerlessness, not only about the experience
of sex but of the experience of being human. Our insti-
tutions of state, church and the media, either through

ayeysq edioyjajddep isqoy @

ignorance or guile continue the process. When I listen
to the news, and hear one crime story after another,
testaments to the evils of humanity, I see the voyeur at
the peep show feverishly pumping his dick, peering to
the left and right, afraid of being caught with his pants
down. Ashamed of his own need, he has learned to be
excited by his shame and to be very, very quiet.

When we feel guilty, we do not voice our opin-
ions. If we do not voice our opinions, we cannot raise
questions. If we do not raise questions, we cannot ef-
fect change. In any evolution, what happens when
there is a surfeit of a particular resource is that re-
source begins to lose its effect. We have had guilt ‘til
it’s coming our of our ears. Today, less and less people
find comfort in guilt. In my personal evolution, I ac-
cepted sex with guilt as better than no sex at all. Guilt
had a purpose, it helped me have pleasure. When guilt
began to hurt, I dropped guilt. But it took a long time
for me to differentiate those feelings. From childhood,
everything had rushed in so quickly... and there was
no chance for discussion. Awareness came with grow-

ing up, doing my own explorations and the support

Marty & Veronica
photo by Robert Mapplethorpe 1982

of other people who felt the same way. The political
consequences of sex without guilt are enormous.

Attitude is everything. Attitude is our position
toward a particular fact or state. That preacher’s atti-
tude, toward being human was that humanity was evil
right from the get-go and that evil needed to be con-
trolled. But if we begin with the attitude that humanity
is good and we embrace our sexuality in all of its vari-
eties as part of what it is to be human, we give our-
selves permission. We acknowledge our right to expe-
rience sex with ourselves and with each other because
we believe in the power of our energy and sex is the
most efficient way that we share that energy. We re-
joice and humbly accept our need for each other, be-
cause our need for each other is what makes us human
and to be human is not just good, it’s divine.

When I gave myself permission to touch myself,

I gave myself permission to feel. I validated my feel-
ings. The right to feel is a basic right and with it comes
the right to have an opinion, and what follows is the
right to ask questions. We ask questions and we meet
others who are asking the same questions and together
we create a world. Make no mistake about it. Sex is a
political act.

When my bosom buddy, Annie Sprinkle invited
me to create the playbill for her brave, iconoclastic one
woman show, I was inspired to write the Post Porn
Modernist Manifesto. On the evening of its comple-
tion, a group of libido liberals had gathered at my
home for a party. We all signed the manifesto like it
was the Declaration Of Independence, in a way, it
was. Among the signers that night were nude, “crip”
performance artist Frank Moore who says, “I have the
perfect body for an exhibitionist”; Candida Royalle
famous for making erotic movies from the woman’s
point of view; Betty Dodson, author of Sex For One
and creator of The Bodysex Workshops; England’s
greatest treasure Miss Tuppy Owens whose Sex
Maniac’s Diary and charity Ball chronicle and honor
the sex world.... Rene “I Am The Best Artist” deco-
rated the manuscript with genitalia, a most appropri-
ate insignia. The space at the bottom was left for your
name. Here is what it said. We still hold these truths
to be self-evident:

continued on next page

The Cherotic rEvolutionary q

Veronica Vera Sexiest Writer in America photo by Annie Sprinkle

Post Porn Modernist Manifesto"

Let it be known to all who read these words or witness these events
that a new awareness has come over the land.

We of the Post Porn Modernist Movement face the challenge of the Rubber Age
by acknowledging this moment in our personal sexual evolutions
and in the sexual evolution of the planet.

Post Porn Modernists celebrate sex as the nourishing, life-giving force.
We embrace our genitals as part, not separate from our spirits.

We utilize sexually explicit words, pictures and performances
to communicate our ideas and emotions.

We denounce sexual censorship as anti-art and inhuman.

We empower ourselves by this attitude of sex-positivism.

And with this love of our sexual selves, we have fun, heal the world and endure.

Veronica Vera, June 1989.

Your name (if you dare)

“The term “post-porn modernist” was created by Dutch artist and porn fan, Wink van Kempen.

B April 1993

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~ Modernist
Manifesto

LET IT BE KNOWN to all who read these words or witness these events that a new awareness has come over the
land. We of the DO&T PORN MODERNIST MOVEMENT face the challenge of the Rubber Age by acknowledging
this moment in our personal sexual evolutions and in the sexual evolution of the planet
Dost Porn Modernists celebrate sex as the nourishing, life-giving force.
We embrace our genitals as part, not separate, from our spirits.
We utilize sexually explicit words, pictures and performances to communicate our ideas and emotions.
We denounce sexual censorship as antiart and inhuman.
We empower ourselves by this attitude of sex-positivism.
And with this love of our sexual selves we have fun, heal the world and endure.

—Vera, June 1989

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Ve Lo ane. (9 6 BS ARTES

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Your name (if you dare):

NOTE: The nickname given to the unfortunate ballplayer
by Lowell Cohn (no relation) colummist for the

San Francisco Chronicle. In a very literate sports piece
comparing him to Oetdipus of Greek fable who was
forced to leave his Greek city for unbecoming conduct

“Oedipus Pete” was fleet on his feet,
ran the bases like no one can,
had more hit then “Ty Cobb”,
many bases did rob,
made his fans hearts...throb,
So they nicknamed him “Charlie Hustle”

Over others, Rose he in the game,
gaining a name, in the sport of great fame
known as Baseball,
the national religion played out in the fall,
Pete its high priest, the player with gall
Oeidie Pete, really played ball,
and often played the world series..delirious

But Petes secret lyfe,
known perhaps...to his wyfe,
But especially....his Bookie,
who knew Pete bet Red,
and contracted him dead,
for revenging the line, not paying on time
to cover his bets made on Baseball,

continued on page 12

10 april 1993

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Yeah!, Pete had the lyfe
a cute lovin wyfe,
and on the side, sly nookie,
his failure was thus,
feet of clay he did bust,
forfeiting loans from his Bookie,
_ _He’d had money and fame, Rose to the top of the game,
One day heard his name, for the Hall of fame,
called over prarie and plain,

But the media doth say,
Oeidipus Pete, bet on baseball!
Denial! sayeth, He,
But Giamatti, say Yay,
Still Pete exclaimeth, Nay
Bet on Baseball?...NO WAY!!

But the thing, Pete forgot,
When religion ya got, And Baseballs the National religion,
Don’t spill blood on its altar,
topple idols of ball,
You'll lie and you'll stall,
throw your career...over the wall!,
But most all,
Pete....LGOK!!,
if you jes payed off the Book,
Pete!!

Your Lyfe would be all quiet and neat,
But you risked it all for a buck,

And now,, all we can say is,
Oy! What a Schmuck,

© R.(Dixi) Cohn, Berkeley

12 april 1993

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é Cherotic rEvolutionary 13

14 = april 1993

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ELLEN/ANNIE

I was born Ellen Steinberg, but I didn’t like ‘Ellen’ very much, so I invented Annie Sprinkle.
Ellen was excruciatingly shy. Annie is an exhibitionist.
Ellen was fat and ugly, and nobody seemed to want her.
Annie is voluptuous and sexy, and lots of people want her.
Ellen desperately needs attention. Annie gets it.
Ellen wore orthopaedic shoes and flannel nightgowns.
Annie wears six-inch spiked high heels and sexy lingerie.
Ellen was afraid of men and sex. Annie is fearless.
Ellen was a nobody, Annie gets asked for autographs.
Ellen wants to get married and have children. Annie wants fame and fortune.
I suppose Ellen Steinberg really is Annie Sprinkle,
and Annie Sprinkle is really Ellen Steinberg.

zuniy d1ey Aq 0304g

Aueieg aysay ‘uonalg wy Aerpry Ary :010y4g

Ea
(ASENGSASIASIGSIZSSSASIASISN)

i? YEARS LATER
ANNIE ANYA

Annie Sprinkle loves everybody. Anya loves herself.
Annie Sprinkle seeks attention. Anya seeks awareness.
Annie Sprinkle is a feminist. | Anya is a Goddess.
Annie Sprinkle wants a career, fame and fortune. | Anya wants peace, love and freedom.
Annie Sprinkle wants an animal attraction. | Anya wants a spiritual connection.
Annie Sprinkle lovesmen. Anya loves men... and absolutely adores women.
Annie Sprinkle isa modern woman. Anya is ancient.
Annie Sprinkle likes sex with transsexuals, midgets and amputees. Anya makes love to the sky, mud and trees.

Annie Sprinkle masturbates. Anya meditates... while she masturbates, of course.

Anyaistoday, only because Annie Sprinkle was.

The Cherotic rEvolutionary 1d

apfuuds atuuy :o104g

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SNNANAASNNANAN

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SISSIES

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MY FORMAL SEX TEACHERS

I've learned something from every sexual encounter. Many people have contributed to my knowledge,
but there are several in particular from whom I've learned major things.

Frank Moore is a unique performance artist, teacher, writer, painter and philosopher. He taught me to love my body exactly
the way it is. Frank has cerebral palsy, and can’t walk, talk or stand. He doesn’t have any control over his arms, he can’t feed
himself or go to the bathroom without help. He spells out his thoughts on a letter board by using a pointer attached to his
leather headband. Although he lives in a wheelchair, he manages to accomplish many things, including having a very erotic sex
life. He teaches what he calls “Eroplay”, which is basically getting naked with a person or a group, touching and playing
sensuously, making it “sexual, but not quite”. It’s innocent and child-like. Eroplay is about energy, not genitals.

All selections excerpted from Annie’s book, Post Porn Modernist, published by Torch Books, copyrighted 1991.

16 April 1993

Produced and
Directed by
Mariza Beatty &

Annie Sprinkle
Music by

Pauline Oliveros

: his video is a humorous,
absurd, heartfelt and wor-
shipful look at SEX.
= Guided through this
unique adventure by sexpurt
extraordinaire Annie Sprinkle
and the “Transformation Facili-
tators’, you will explore the
ancient and forbidden knowl-
edge about female sexuality.
This fresh and inspiring video
features many exotic ways to
stimulate sexual and sensual
pleasure. You will
encounter fla-
gellation with oak
leaves, Chinese
sword dancing,
striptease, body
’ contortions, tat-
tooing, piercing, shaving and
gender-play. The mysteries of sex
magic and female ejaculation
will be revealed. You will learn
about Tantric breathing, primal
screaming, the joys of group

WE-SsE I WANT TO BE A SEX GODDESS!

Here is my check (or money order) for >t. 00 plus $5.00 shipping and handling.

Make check out to Maria Beaty. U. S. allow 4 weeks for delivery. Add
POB 435, $5 U.S. for European Shipping. Fer

Prince St, Station.
New York, NLY. 10012

NAME.

orders only.

ADDRESS

CrTy/STATE
ZIP

I am over 21 and I request this material. Running Time: 52 Minutes/Color

VIDEO WORKSHOP OR HOW TO BE
A SEX GODDESS IN 101 EASY STEPS

international orders send $U.S. money
Add $5 for PAL format.

Orcasmic Orrer!
Orver NOW!

teal ton

SAFE SEX FOR ADULTS ONLY

ebaraer sence

masturbation while meditating,
and not least of all, you will wit-
ness a profound five minute long
orgasm!

Featuring ten magnificent, hot
Goddesses, this tape is explicit
and lavishly produced. Prepare
for an “eye fuck”!

Challenging the boundaries of
femininity, the “good girl”/ “bad
girl” myths as well as the sexual
“norms”, it is controversial and
thought provoking and thus best
viewed in a group. This in-
sightful work of art will remind
you that your sexuality is pre-
cious and sacred. oO

Starring Annie Sprinkle, Barbara Carrellas,
Amy Harlib, Diviana Ingravallo, Jade, Carol
Leigh (a.k.a. Scarlot Harlot), Jocelyn Taylor,
Chris Teen, Trash and Kelly Webb. Cameos
by Pulsating Paula, Donna Theresa

Associate Producer Leslie Barany
Assistant Director Kathy High
Art Director/Stylist Catou Guillaud
Screen Play Annie Sprinkle

PHOTOGRAPHY, AMY ARDREY © RETOUCHING, MARILYN HAWKRIDGE © PHOTO ART DIRECTION, LES BARANY © FLYER, CLIFF SCHWARTZ

I'm Just a Pubic Hair for Someone Bigger ¢ petiormance)

i've got my spade and im going to start shoveling away the shit
i'm going to start shoveling the shit, shoveling the shit
i'm going to start with your asshole and shoveling out all that shit from the lower intestines
Cause nice guys
Cause nice guys are the seeds the holy seeds of homophobia.
are there any nice guys Out there? |
nice guys think they so cooool! to let this queer upon his stage upon his stage
just doing his thing
just doing his thing
he’s a nice guy cause he sits
he’s a nice guy cause he under stands the circumstances ...
it makes you a nice guy to let me do my thing, right?

well youre wrong

well you're wrong.
i don't want you to liberate me man, but let me follow thru and say what i want

let me follow thru and say what i want

cause im going to say what i want anyhow — i'm going to say what the fuck pleases me.
when was the first time guys
when was the first time guys you realized you had hair around your asshole
when was the first time guys you realized you had hair around your assholes and you put
your index finger between your ass cheeks wondering how it got there ...
there is no garden of eden in your ass
there is no god of almighty in your ass —
you shit/you shit
because you shit from that hole
because you have to shit from that hole
some put devices up that hole
some put cocks up that hole because it is not an intolerant hole like your
mouth.
after sex get the fuck away from me go clean yourself up you smell [ike cum change the sheets
i hate the wet spot turn the t.v. on get me a beer get me a smoke get me some peace and
quiet around here you fucking asshole go snake yourself.
iam one of jesse helms’ pubic hairs
iam one of nancy reagan’s pubic hairs
iam one of barbra streisand’s pubic hairs
iam one of john frahnmeyer’s pubic hairs
iam one of allen ginsberg’s pubic hairs
iam one of mary magdelene’s pubic hairs
i dont have a problem
i don't have a problem

continued @

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the problem is my lover doesn’t accept me
doesn't accept me because you don't accept him
you don't accept him
i have an attitude
i have a fucking attitude
because society has accepted for years the exploitation talk about boobs, ass, pussy
all of that
all of that
-but i we you they cannot talk about a man because society doesn’t accept or understand
truth and reality
truth and reality
(people don't you understand this is my honor and social reality)
orgasm and nudity
orgasm and nudity
(to to to to to realize there are 16 different words for sexual pleasure in the native hawaiian language)
youve got your mind made up about abortion
youve got your mind made up about abortion
and i could care less either way, either way — i could care less —
but orgasm and nudity are open
but orgasm and nudity are open... or is it?
iam here to change all of that
iam here to change all of that
I AM HERE TO CHANGE ALL OF THAT
i can't talk about it
i can't talR about it
icant talk about how this is beginning to get uncomfortable ...
some of you are afraid that youre going to have to pull down those little boxers,
those little calvin Rlein’s, those jocR straps and show me show me that THING between
your LEGS.
semi liberal man so warm and funny you going to fart as soon as i start talRing
about
how you wiggle when those balls are being nustled those balls being nustled or
being probed
being probed
cause it's not cool to be so cool it’s not hip to be hip
it's a lie it’s a lie — the totality lie
cause i hate macho men
i hate macho men
men with muscles and iron
men with muscles and iron

20 April 1993

your dick is getting hard, huh?
not like the little thing hanging limp from the underwear, but it’s getting thick and red
burning with lust
fuck the weakness
the hairy thoughts
the drive
the eclipse of being a nice guy
like a dog that’s how i want it like a dog that’s how i want it
i want to be dry humped with whiteness all over
i don't want anything old, i don’t want anything old, idon’t want anarchy —
straight guys ignore gay guys because we're so unusual, So strange, so savage, so beasty ...
do you like looking at your own cock do you even touch your own cocR.
it's a weird mix man
its a weird mix man
cause there are some always trying to pass for white
cause there are some always trying to pass for white
but it’s Rnown
it's Rnown that they only masturbate to madonna pictures
they only masturbate to madonna pictures
agony
agony
agony
caught between to/two different lies
caught between to/two different lies
the gay lie
the straight lie
can't let your mama, your mama see you jacking off ...
but ican spot the different lies instantaneous because you always have a revolver pointing
at your head, you always have hard nipples and a female cover who'll support you ...
but most of all
iam the most important person in your life
iam one of your soft stabbing unyielding pubic hairs.

- merle tofér, II

The Cherotic rEvolutionary 21

BATTLE
sexeS

by Luna Sanguine

is the first of several articles that I will be doing to create entirely new ways for the genders to interact

on “The Battle of the Sexes”. Now that we and inter-relate on the level of day-to-day living. It is
are in the nineties, I want to synthesize once and for now possible to discard all of the stereotypical role
all everything that we have learned over the past models that have been imposed on our western society

twenty years. I do not want to carry a lot of extra bag- _ by Theocratic religion, patriarchal family structure,

gage into the new decade. authoritarian governments, and exploitative economic
In order to do this, we must create a whole new systems. In order to do this, however, we still have to

dynamic to govern relations between men and women _ use our existing knowledge and opinions about gender

at all levels —- a Hegelian synthesis com- relationships as a starting point.

bining many different elements It is completely impossible to simply

from the opposing belief-systems discard thousands of years of bad
labeled “sexism” and “femi- mental programming and start
nism.” There is still no way over fresh, but it is possible to
to avoid having to act out the consciously recognize the indi-
alleged “Battle of the vidual elements of this pro-
Sexes” over and over again, gramming within our own
but we should be wide minds and to assemble them into a
awake and conscious of better pattern, a pattern which
the act, bringing it into the con- will produce sexual role
sciousness of “lest we forget.” models of our own choosing. For ex-
I believe that many ample, every man who grows up in

women and men are now ready western society is influenced by

ae April 1993

the stereotypes which give him very few choices in his
behavior toward women. No matter how hard his
conscious mind tries to treat a particular woman as a
unique individual, his subconscious still tries to impose
one of the ancient mythological images on her:
mother, sister, lover, maid-servant, whore, etc. The
only way to break out of this trap is to take the ele-
ments of which these stereotypical images are built
and reassemble them into a new pattern.

The first step in such a synthesis is isolating these
individual elements. I will start with some notes dic-
tated to me in the winter of ’86 by a friend who at that
time considered himself a Situationist. I at that time _
was working as a professional dominatrix. I petitioned
this friend for an outside view that focused in only on
the “straight” client/mistress relationship not on the
S/M or sex industry community.

Capitalism functions by taking desires, wants, and
needs and mirroring them back in such a way that

the fetish, the representation of desire, replaces the
original desire and becomes a commodity, a “luxury.”
Throughout our lives we come across the same di-
chotomy: desire to obtain pleasure versus sacrificing
ourselves to obtain the accepted rewards and avoid
the accepted punishments to take our place in a com-
pletely fabricated hierarchy.

Attaining the only “acceptable” solution to our-
selves as individuals. Unconditional surrender of our-
selves as individuals for a piece of the pie (the piece of
the pie being merely convenient inventions themselves)
in return for our living out the lies of accepted roles.
Democracy must (has to) come from everyone being
strong instead of merely maintaining a democratized
level of weakness (that comes from surveyed averag-
ing) to help us to reach for and achieve a cosmic aver-
ageness in a supportive atmosphere.

There is no standard of desire. By maintaining a
standard of desire we judge ourselves on our desire ca-
pabilities, turning once again desire into a commodity
where some could be “rich” in desire and others
“poor,” as if any of our real desires are in any way
“standard.” We judge how capable we are by what we
desire. How capable are you of acquiring desired sta-

tus quo? All consumers of the sex industry had real
desires to touch. But instead what is sold back to them
are carefully airbrushed women made misty, mysteri-
ous, illusive and untouchable. That is the talent this
society works from. It takes real desires and inverts
them before selling them back.

The mystique of male privilege is that supposedly
he owns a woman as property. What he must give up
in return for the illusion of owning a woman as prop-
erty is permitting himself to really touch anyone com-
pletely and fully. Why do you think that more sophis-
ticated men are so concerned with making women
orgasm? Because orgasm becomes the new product,
the standard of success. And that “orgasm” has, as the
standard of “success,” been interchanged for the ac-
tual need/desire to really touch a partner, whether
“straight” or “gay.”

That is the basis of one area where women have
found “power” (but not on their own terms, of
course, except on “women’s terms” as defined by
power), the one sheer means of gaining control over
the so-called privileged male. Why? The myth of the
so-called privileged male shows up that the patriarchal
privilege, like authority of any sort, is based on made-
up principles. Notice that Meese — he goes too far and
will not last — says that the general direction of things
is to make sex become more of a product rather than

The Cherotic rEvolutionary 23

the fulfillment of desire by making it less “obscene”
and more acceptable to the mass audience.

The power structure controls pornography to
keep it within the realm of a certain romanticism — this
romanticism helps perpetuate the fraud that pornogra-
phy can replace honest desires that are unfulfilled.
With women, the only means of achieving control has
traditionally been through the bedroom. From Mata
Hari to other examples too numerous to mention,
women have found the bedroom the only realistic
means of achieving power in the illusion of a “man’s
world.”

In a sense, men have been just as victimized as
women because their need to touch has become as
greatly separated from them. The more perceptive
women have realized that the best means of manipu-
lating men within their illusion of male superiority was
by manipulating men’s real need/desire for real touch/
contact. Of course in the same breath, obviously men
aren’t alone in not achieving real contact.

Both pornography and using sex coercively to ob-
tain a simulation of power are examples of a world
that is turned completely upside down. A world where
we are sold a multitude of substitutes for real contact
with each other and real fulfillment of our most basic
real desires and needs: to contact, love, and really
touch one another.

But feminists also lose contact with reality when
they counter these illusions by operating on the unspo-
ken principle of “Everyone loses: no one touches, and
no one is really touched.” This is really just another
way of playing the same game and saving one’s com-
modity for the highest bidder. Love becomes business.

This is the sad point of being in a sex industry, i.e.
being a mistress. People really do want/need love, we
live in a world where we don’t touch ourselves and we
don’t touch each other. There’s always a mediation
between us. There is even mediation between “I” and
“me” by power through complete identification with
my roles — “I” the producer or giver and “me” the
consumer or recipient. That mediation is power.
Power mediates all transactions from relations with
ourselves, to our personal relations with others, to in-
ternational affairs.

24 April 1993

Why don’t we, can’t we, really understand people
of different races or nationalities? Why can’t we even
understand sexism amongst our own kind? We can’t
understand them as long as power remains victor, as
long as our relations to each other are based on a
spirit of relative power in which authority dictates re-
wards and punishments that become replacements
for people’s real desires. Reward replaces actual desire.
Make a lot of money and get to buy women, etc.
People exchange real desires for rewards offered by so-
ciety in an acceptable manner.

In that sense, male privilege is all illusion. Men are
offered a slightly higher place on a scale of relative
power. By offering people shares in power, society
makes people participants. Society works by you lick-
ing a person’s boots and someone licks yours, achiev-
ing a full circle, merely reversing the roles imposed by
society, while still giving these (im)personal lies justifi-
cation: men make themselves slaves to mistresses as a
justification of lies.

A lot of people enter into S/M because this society
has made them incapable of real feelings. More and
more extreme innovations of contact as commodities
are developed to give impressions of feeling. For in-
stance, if more pain can be inflicted the more you are

alive. It comes to a point that it takes extreme pain to
feel something honestly. At least when you’re having
the shit beat out of you, you know you’re actually feel-
ing something instead of acting a part. You know
you’re alive. For particularly jaded people, that’s the
only way they feel alive.

At least when you’re completely enveloped in
pain, you are honestly feeling and responding without
mediation. When you hurt badly, your screams aren’t
mediated through acceptable forms of behavior. Pain
cuts across things like power because it is too immedi-
ate. Because society has conditioned you not to permit
yourself to feel emotions directly and immediately
from more positive forms of physical or social stimula-
tion, your pain becomes one of the few means of feel-
ing emotions at all. Someone tears your skin off. You
scream and for a moment you are outside of social
functions. For a moment there you are just feeling and
reacting.

Capitalist society has a really good bet by invest-
ing in the so-called battle of the sexes, in that seeing
the opposite sex as a potential enemy keeps women
and men separate to help insure that no concerted as-
sault can be directed at the society. It is much like the
tactic used by the British in the Arab colonies and in
India — encourage various local political or ethnic fac-
tions to fight among themselves, keeping them from
banding together and overthrowing the British as the
ultimate authority.

We have more to gain by seeing through any sort
of separation by regarding ourselves and each other as
living, feeling people, as ourselves. To help each other
and ourselves as a concerted force, integrating to
achieve our common goal that is the fulfillment of our
own real desires, needs, and joys.

They’ve turned the women’s movement, which
was a big chance. When women started making revo-
lutionary demands to claim themselves, to recognize
that their needs and desires have reality, they thereby
created a new terrain that hadn’t been seriously
claimed before by the society and put under control of
the power structure. Women jumped out of normal af-
fairs and said “we demand our own,” and it was an

untouched area. They basically opened up a new can

of worms that neither the “Left” nor the “Right” sec-
tors of the power structure was yet prepared to put
under control.

If properly used, the feminist movement could
have erased the false separation between men and
women of all sexual persuasions. And with that lack
of alienation and fear of each other, it could have been
the beginning of a breaking down of a whole multi-
tude of imposed differences.

When something so basic as women and men are
separated, how are people going to get together? How
will they get their real wants and needs if the sexes are
constantly warring against each other? Society can be
assured that they won’t align and destroy the power-
structure. But society being basically flexible and
adapting, it altered the potential of the women’s move-
ment to merely define exploitation of one gender by
the other in slightly different terms. It hasn’t allowed
women to break free of the slavery of the working
class, but has only allowed some of them higher posi-
tions in the existing exploitative hierarchy.

Then as some of the female wage-slaves got
higher-paying jobs, the power structure acted very
quickly to prevent them from using the money to
increase their freedom or meet their real wants and
needs. Instead, it just created a new class of female
consumers, reading magazines such as WOMAN’S
WORLD or WORKING WOMAN, full of propa-
ganda telling them that the best way to “achieve even
more success in the world of business” is to squander
their pay buying all the “correct” clothes, gadgets, etc.
Women are becoming the strongest consuming mar-
ket, and as such, the best way to reach them is through
women’s magazines that they unfortunately trust,
which perpetuate themselves as being the choice of the
new liberated woman. This very cleverly leads women
from one form of slavery to another, and
successfully blunts the possibilities that were opened
with the onset of the women’s movement.

I place the blame for allowing the power structure
to do this on both men and women. The majority of
“liberated” women refused to listen to the handful of
truly radical feminists who tried to tell them that they

were anew force going into a brave new world. Most

The Cherotic rEvolutionary 25

feminists quickly became ripe fruit or “chickens” to
well-practiced liars whose only goal was to use the
real demands of women based on their needs and de-
sires merely as an engine to bolster their own posi-
tions. This managed to diffuse the very real threat the
women’s movement offered if its possibilities and im-
plications could be realized.

In this context, the male as submissive to the fe-
male is no great revolutionary gain, because it is the
mere exchanging of two fundamentally impoverished
roles. The way towards meaningful change is through
the utter destruction of the concept of people, male or
female, as merely fodder to fulfill roles. It doesn’t re-
ally matter who has a measure of power over the other
as long as the very nature of that authority is not ques-
tioned, understood, and canceled.

Do you think it really matters to the survival of
this system which individual plays what role in per-
petuating this society’s existence? As long as we can be
persuaded to participate in the extension of power, au-
thority, and our own destruction as sovereign beings
by accepting any offer of a share of power, a little
place within the reigning hierarchy, all of us stand
little chance of becoming ourselves on our terms and
making our desires reality, rather than having our de-

sires turned against us.

26 April 1993

4
CLI:
Cees

My strongest impression upon rereading the
above is that this subject does, as the author says,
Open up many cans of worms: I find myself with a lot
to say about almost every point discussed in it, and it
does a good job of opening the door to future articles.
The mysteries of sex, shamanism, S/M etc., are well-
discussed issues at this present time. There are many
good articles, magazines and books that go into such
things in detail. If you want me to direct you to actual
titles, just write and ask.

Iam 100% pro choice, pro legalization of sex,
drugs, and experimentation with one’s own body, be it
tattoos, piercings, prostitution, drug-induced vision
quests, abortion, sterilization, or euthanasia. As long
as we buy into the false reality that there is inherently
something in men and women that cannot be shared
and must be fought over, our society will take advan-
tage of this and take it to any limits it can get away
with economically and religiously.

We have no idea what life would be like without
sexism. It is time in the nineties to just live as we are.
To respond naturally as we are. To stop reacting to

what we are not.

From THE SPIRITUAL REVOLUTIONARY
issue #12

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a universe

billions of years in the making ‘
beginning as one invisible to the eye speck of energy, :
expanding finally to nothingness (which would you prefer?) 2]

or compressing, wise owl physicists call this one “crunch”
going backward in time, slurped up by the one tiny speck,
important YOU, and important ME, and history and galaxies
billions of humans, each a universe, valuable, complete and
immortal (as we see it)

connected, interdependent yet

uniquely alone, on a solo flight hurtling through space

at millions of miles per hour, not small...

HUGE and all encompassing, for everything known

is only what the eye filters

ONE ONLY..”human”..”being”, you interpret, perceive, create
and this puts you squarely in the center of the universe,
inescapably

ONE PERSON PLAYING A BEAUTIFUL TRUMPET

whether you play

humbly or grandly, you’re IT for all practical purposes,

St. Francis, Mother Theresa, couldn’t give their life away

by absorbing ten thousand and more, selflessly unable

to lose themselves, interpreting creating their lives,

at the center of the universe, inescapably..

and not small among billions, but HUGE and all encompassing through
perceiving, interpreting, creating, filtering, forming and squarely

in the center of the universe, inescapably.

ONE PERSON PLAYING A BEAUTIFUL TRUMPET

Billions of humans, each a universe

valuable, complete and immortal (as we see it)
connected, interdependent, seemingly

yet uniquely alone, on a solo flight hurtling through space

The Universe, billions of years in the making
began as one invisible to the eye

speck of energy...

that tiniest speck of energy

that infinitesimal speck of energy

was that speck...that energy..

the same perpetrator of the loud sound
in the beginning

in the beginning of the beginning (bang!)
was that speck..that energy...

and that loud sound

the same perpetrator?

Rrra t.. = it E S

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the same trumpet player? Seaeea

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23 April 1993

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6201 Harwood Ave. Oakland CA 94618
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The Cherotic rEvolutionary

; Minez00

fairy tales can come true
THIS IS A FILM ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS AND DISABILITY STARRING

FRANK MOORE, WHO HAS BEEN DISABLED SINCE BIRTH WITH CERE-
BRAL PALSY. IT IS AHUMOROUS, YET REALISTIC LOOK AT HOW TO
ESTABLISH RELATIONSHIPS BY CHANGING NEGATIVE SELF IMAGE.
copyrighted 1981 35 minutes

erotic play
THIS VIDEO EXPLORES WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE OF ALL TYPES

AND AGES ARE GIVEN A CHANCE TO RETURN TO BEING A KID AGAIN.

A SIMPLE GAME OF DRESS-UP BECOMES A POWERFUL METAPHOR
FOR DROPPING TABOOS, RELEASING CREATIVE EMOTION, AND FOR
DRAMATIC CHANGE. AS A RESULT, AN INNOCENT EROTICISM IS
FOUND... AS WELL AS GETTING INTIMATE WITH 60 HUMANS.
copyrighted 1983 84 minutes

outrageous dream
A SURREAL, VISUAL POEM OF FOUND IMAGES.

copyrighted 1984 41 minutes

the nude cave
AN EROTIC, SURREALISTIC VIDEO DREAM THAT COMBINES NON-LIN-

EAR IMAGES AND FRANK’S ORIGINAL MUSIC SCORE.
copyrighted 1984 1/13 minutes

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MK ART! OF

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RUNNING TIME: 32 MINUTES Tia

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out of isolation

A SURREAL EROTIC EXAMINATION OF AN INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP
OF NEED. STARRING FRANK MOORE AND LINDA SIBEO.

copyrighted 1989 J05 minutes

the outrageous beauty revue
THIS RAW VIDEO DOCUMENTS THE TACKY, MUSICAL, OVER-THE-

EDGE COMEDY REVUE THAT FRANK CREATED, DIRECTED AND PER-
FORMED IN. THE SHOW RAN ON A WEEKLY BASIS FOR THREE AND
ONE HALF YEARS AT THE MABUHAY GARDENS IN SAN FRANCISCO IN
ADDITION TO A NUMBER OF OTHER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA AND NE-
VADA PERFORMANCES. FRANK PERFORMED ALONG WITH THE
THIRTY PEOPLE WHO MADE UP HIS THEATRE GROUP, “the theatre of
human melting.”

copyrighted 1980 approx. 30 minutes

chero collage

ATTEMPTS TO CAPTURE THE TRANCE STATE OF LIVE, SHAMANISTIC
PERFORMANCE COMBINING FOOTAGE OF SEVERAL OF chero
company’s RITUALS INTO A REALITY-WARPING VIDEO.

copyrighted 1992 27 minutes

the outrageous horror show
A LIVE CABARET SHOW THAT BREAKS THROUGH THE LIMITING

TABOOS, THROUGH MESSY NIGHTMARES, INTO THE DREAMS OF ALL
POSSIBILITIES.

copyrighted 1992 32 minutes

To order call or write: inter-relations, p.o. box 11445,

berkeley, CA 94701-2445
(510)526-7858

7~oe\yr

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‘Passions

: Moore's
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the freedom to

tin our lives, © freely

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“art Event of
Play’ allowed us
| potentials inheren

about living, &P
of what 1s = —
oy ; Scola FROM THE ASHES hy =
TY ee = \ “I found the tapes amazing ..I was
2 ; Surprised and deeply impressed by t
gentleness and sense of community that iw
80 watching you and your group perform.
We live in a world where there is so much
€ hatred and in that hatred is such fear and
loathing of bodies and human interaction
But in your tapes I saw people interact in |
such a way that hatred was overcome and
was replaced by comfort, kindness and
understanding.”
Marnie Parrell, THE PLEASURE I
TORONTO

sible in our lives.

“One of the most erotic things I've ever seen.” RICHARD SCHECHNER &
HONORABLE MENTION AWARD, FEATURE LENGTH VIDEO EAST BAY VIDEO
FESTIVAL © Mage CaO E eRe Use acy eCme UL

| have ever seen. It is a classic, underground masterpiece, and | was deeply

impressed by (Frank Moore’s) sense of movement, aesthetic, humanity and
CML IMO ea la tip B(Out of isolation’) “stayed
in my mind far more persistently than | first expected, at least based on what the film-
makers with millions of dollars at their disposal call ‘production values’ and ‘professional
polish’. What most of these high-priced pieces lack, of course, is substance and a
genuinely different — and deeply challenging — point of view. Something to shake up,
shatter, shame, inspire, perspire, ponder and play with long after the cassette gets
rewound. Your films did that for me: they are definitely not easy to absorb, follow, or even
‘enjoy in the ordinary pop-culture sense. But you don't forget watching them, ever.”
SCOTT LANKFORD, FOOTHILL COLLEGE & Biureie on nau
‘Out of Isolation’ as it is revealed is truly unforgettable: the nurse’s everyday
American loneliness is so much sadder, so much more impenetrable than that
of the man she hopes to ‘cure.’ In this sense, the film makes a bold attempt to
break through the cultural/intellectual isolation of the viewer; to stretch our

imaginations in ways they have never been moved and stretched before due to 2 oe
’ AFILM BY
FRANK MOORE

t

our own cradle-to-grave institutionalization within the rigid mindset of every- AFILM BY
day America. Which may explain why, even when the film seems painful to FRANK MOORE
watch, it remains powerful: it stretches the imagination in new and different,

sometimes painful directions.” SCOTT LANKFORD, FOOTHILL COLLEGE @

“A very powerful film.” JACK FOLEY @

E0872. ABASH

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cherotic magic

A MAJOR ATTEMPT TO INTRODUCE A
POWERFUL SYSTEM OF MAGIC INTO OUR
MODERN WESTERN EVERYDAY LIFE, THEREBY
EXPLOSIVELY EXPANDING SUCH CONCEPTS
AS SEX, HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS. THE CLEAR,
DOWN-TO-EARTH TEXT IS AMPLIFIED BY THE
NON-LINEAR TRANCE ILLUSTRATIONS BY
LABASH.

published 1990

Rocks & ZiNES

BY frank moore

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art of a shaman

IN art of a shaman, ORIGINALLY A

LECTURE PRESENTED AT N.Y.U., FRANK
MOORE EXPLORES PERFORMANCE AND ART
IN GENERAL TERMS OF THEM BEING A
MAGICAL WAY TO EFFECT CHANGE IN THE
WORLD. HE LOOKS AT PERFORMANCE AS AN
ART OF MELTING ACTION, RITUALISTIC,
SHAMANISTIC DOINGS/PLAYINGS. BY USING
HIS CAREER AND LIFE AS A “BASELINE”,
MOORE EXPLAINS THE DYNAMIC PLAYING
WITHIN THE CONTEXT OF REALITY SHAPING.
HE BRINGS IN CONCEPTS FROM MODERN
PHYSICS, MYTHOLOGY, AND PSYCHOLOGY.
COVER BY LABASH.

published 199]

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PERSONAL, ANARCHICAL TECHNOLOGIES
SUCH AS XEROGRAPHY, VCR, FAXS, ETC., ARE
EXAMINED IN cultural subversion BY FRANK
MOORE AS THE MEANS BY WHICH ORDINARY
PEOPLE CAN TAKE BACK THE CONTROL OF
COMMUNICATIONS AND CREATIVITY FROM
THE CENTRAL POWER COMBINE.

published 1992

art of living ED
A GUIDE TO DOWN-TO-EARTH SPIRITUALITY
AS CHANNELLED BY FRANK MOORE.

published 1987

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REVIEWS

The Cherotic rEvolutionary #3
April 1993

“Since 1980, Frank Moore has been creating and carving a niche of his own within a creative
artistic and literary community at one time traditionally reserved for others. His journey

of self-identification & self-discovery as unique statements are documented not only in his
fine collection of revolutionary, subversive, anarchical, magical videos, books and ‘zines but
now he (and Linda Mac) have been very busy again, producing and marketing The Cherotic
Revolutionary, “a ‘zine (according to Frank) about “The Edge’ for and by people on The Edge...
if not over The Edge.” With this issue we learn that TCR has not only gone through a major
transformation desktop publishing/production-wise (MAC computer/laser printer) but
Shaman Frank has made mega-progress in terms of his legitimate acceptance into the elite
magikal inner circle of high profile “name” ex-porn industry stars turned performance artists!
This magnificently stark black/white issue includes unique articles (and art) of & by Veronica
Vera; photos & art of/by Annie Sprinkle; a 1982 photo of Veronica by Robert Mapplethorpe;
artwork by LaBash and Lee Kay; poetry by Merle Tofer; & contributions by long-time
supporters such as Luna Sanguine (writing) as well as Jan Deen, Richard Silvarnes, Wink

Van Kempen, Marc Trunz, Amy Ardrey (photos), Dorothy Jesse Beagle (poetry), Dixi Cohn
(poetry), etc... For those EIDOS readers who have never heard of Frank Moore, here's a brief
excerpt about Frank written by Annie Sprinkle from her book, Post Porn Modernist (Torch,
1991):

“My Formal Sex Teachers”

I've learned something from every sexual encounter. Many people have
contributed to my knowledge, but there are several in particular from whom
I've learned major things. Frank Moore is a unique performance artist, teacher,
writer, painter and philosopher. He taught me to love my body exactly the

way it is. Frank has cerebral palsy, and can't walk. He doesn't have any control
over his arms, he cant feed himself or go to the bathroom without help. He
spells out his thoughts on a letter board by using a pointer attached to his
leather headband. Although he lives in a wheelchair, he manages to accomplish
many things, including having a very erotic sex life. He teaches what he calls
“Eroplay’, which is basically getting naked with a person or group, touching
and playing sensuously, making it “sexual” but not quite. It’s innocent &
childlike. Eroplay is about energy, not genitals”

Whether TCR is revolutionary, evolutionary, on or over the Edge; or a liberating personal
statement that, like a point on a time line, describes & defines his own personal relativism &
the relativity of the entire range of his lifework to other artists and the world at large, Frank
Moore deserves our unequivocal respect, love and support.’

EIDOS Magazine, Volume 7, Number 2

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Here is a zine that almost defies description...”
Maximum RocknRoll, July 1993

“Frank Moore is the inspirational figure behind this whole work
associating himself with very liberated public figures on the more
intimate scene expressing their challenging stand towards the more
constricted societal values.”

The Affiliate, November 1993

“Sex in all its variations interpreted throughout stories, poems,
drawings, and photographs-’
Factsheet 5, #48

“The CHEROTIC REVOLUTIONARY is an important voice in

any dialogue re: the relationship between sexuality and spirituality.
Published/edited by renown performance artist Frank Moore, Linda
Mac and friends, discussion here is pointed, an engaging read,
instructive and more. The latest issue (Vol. 1, #3) contains contributions
from Veronica Vera (Glory! Glory hole-leluhia), Annie Sprinkle and
Luna Sanguine with a Situationist’s take on the S & M sex industry.
(There's also a piece from Frank himself, wherein he traces performance
art and his own works lineage back to its primal roots, when art
combined ‘with science and religion to form the primitive man’s occult
tool to influence both the natural and super natural worlds: Whew! Plus:
poetry, manifestos and some really awesome pen & ink art by the one
and only LaBash.”

Randy Lee Payton, the ROC

VOLUME ji. f55UE 4

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The Cherotic one
The Eage" for and bY P
i her eee 108 ale d by \nter- Relations:
TCR is publishea by = ile Manre eee
h blishers/editors are frant each
eo ie Cae The art editor iS Michael ’
ee the circulation manager is Alexi Malenky-
_ The price for this issue 15 $5.00 per copy.
We don't sell subscriptions, +0 avoid tying
ourselves down to a rigid Publication schedule
or magazine size. WE want to remain free
to publish frequently or larger issues at
longer intervals and adjust the price
accordingly . . |
All material 16 copyrighted 1994 in
the names of the ‘ndividual authors /artists.
Material by Moore or LaBash may be |
feprinted as is Without advance PermisSion-
but please inquire before fepcinting
material by the other contributers.
of course, we would like copies
of all veprints from the iis tite
and we'd alse \\Ke to see copies of
all yeviews or comments on TCR.
We heartily encourage letters
of comment from readers and
will answef as many ae a it
n
Please tell us if you do oe
US to print material ‘aoe
letter —- otherwise we
assume it's rine all
lease a eet ae
correspondence
for Magazines fe:
Frank etree
Ro. Gox \\4

Berkeley, CA 947o|-2 445

| James david audlin
chief distant eagle

T.c.(R).’S AD POLICY

~~

@sex

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recieved
Recently we aoe abouthhew’ TO SUBMIT AN AD
several yeas Cheratic . Send us a copy of your ad
to buy ads int Although We rg a xeroxed, black anda S.AS.E. If we accept it,
nd white j
[opener seeking such zine that is
are nota

ce not precluding .
r. However, We WI
or not to

ads, we 4
them eithe
judge whether
accept an ad.

©1994 LABasy

published irregularly. if we
are lucky, twice a year. Soit
is not the place for fancy
Color ads or for ads with time
deadlines. On the other hand,
T.C.(R). Magically finds its
way around the world.

we send you the rate for your
ad...and if we need anything
from you such as half-tones,
we will tell you. If we don’t
accept it, we will send your
ad back.

GoVeR COLLAGE er LAB 48H

PNA

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AD Rares
Sliding SCa/
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qWarter of g 10-$50 per

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SPEAKING

BY FRANK MOORE

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FREE T.C.(R). COPIES

tively
Standar typi we are not ac
Pin cause
ion The SCale slides g om for paid ads, we do m
ae our Whim not give free copies to wou
a isers. But We
ri ACCEPT ay AD iad sien oe to buy 8
i ade
iN acce a 'S 8 big facto, cia or two. However,
factor js “i an ad other ae give you a free COPY of
© parti °' Contents of one ein which your ad
sh Cula SSue. A d the issu
me ars.
Which ar i os factor ane Frank Moore
S. n even to

November 12, 1993

; : j like being undead. it did not help our self-

in the past issues, 1 have used this space to
introduce you to the artists and the writers in
the particular issue. but in this issue, there are
simply too many for me to do that. and Desides
their work should and does stand on its own.
Most of the people in this issue... and we are
honored to be able to present them to

you .. have their own books in the
underground. if 1 were you, 1 would seek
these books out.

1 need to thank urban ore of berkeley,
california for giving us a deal on the collection
of original 60's rubber stamps which labash
used in our cover collage. thanks also to
wendy gunderson of imagick, ltd. p.o. Dox
4O5, ledyard et 06339 for the 50+ rubber
stamp-images which labash used in our back
cover collage. if 1 were you, 1 would send
away for her catalog of rubber stamps.

wendy and 1, along with Joanna pettit and
Sim gudlin, are a part of a community of
friends that uses the genie computer network
as its means of communication and cultural
subversion. My e-mail address on genie is
f,moore7. 1 would love to hear from you
directly. but old-fashioned letters are great
too.../

flow that we have gotten the business out
of the way....let me ramble and rant for the
rest of the page. it has been amazing how
this zine has found its way around the world,
being distributed by tower books and fine
print, getting all kinds of kind words in
reviews, etc... all without our trying. it is
a cause of concern ... are we getting too slick,
too acceptable...are we, god forbid, politically
correct... or to use the more politically
correct term for politically correct... are we
culturally sensitive? is there a worse fate?

confidence getting “friendly” letters from
advertizing agencies and record companies asking
for our ad rates and for free copies (now
cheap can they get? )». what do we look like ...
Polling stone? then there were letters

from print shops specializing in “alternative
publications’, trying to woo us away from our
local xerox place. Wwe had already resisted the
temptation to raise our prices after signing the
distribution deal. what was this force trying
to make our little zine into a reel magezine
where did we go wrong?

then 4 forced myself to calm down.

1 forced myself to remember the good things.
{ remembered that the anticliberation post-
feminists go through each issue ... and especially
the labash drawings ... counting tits, pussies, and
cocks ... and always getting offended by the
number. you know the ones... the ones who
can't see that separatism, racism, and sexism are
the same thing... the ones who are misusing
annie sprinkle’s work to support their
isolation ... the ones with chips on their
shoulders and between their legs.

1 was feeling better. then 1 remembered that
some “gay" bookstores will not carry t.¢.(r)
because it is not “queer enough"! it doesn't
matter that about eighty percent of our
contributors consider themselves gay or bi. it
doesn't matter that some of the works focus
directly on “gay” reality. it doesn't matter that
£.¢.(r.) has always been included in the queer
zine scene. and it does not matter that 1 am a
lesbian in a male body.

1 was now feeling really good. then i
remembered what a male reader wrote. Re said
he liked the zine.. and @nnie sprinkle’s tits ....
but why did 1 have all these women writers
and artists in it? “face it," he said, “women
don’t have the balls to write good sex!” if he
said that around the women who are in the
zine, he might not have his balls for long!

yes, 1 was feeling great now. if we offend
all the hues of separatist/sexist/elitist thinking
which limit freedom with political correctness
.. Well, we must be doing something right?
Wwe can sleep good.

WUC TALL
RH oo...

My skin feels like buttered silk after | come. |
run my hands over my belly, my thighs which
are still pulsing and aching as if 'd run up
several flights of stairs, and | swear I've never
had anything so wonderful under my hands as
this glowing expanse of my skin.

What | love about getting turned on when
I’m alone is that it sncaks up on me. | run
around all day, busy and maddened. | slump
into a stolen few hours of solitude at the end,
too tred to return phone calls, much less think
about watching sexy videos or open dirty novels
or pull the Hitachi out from under the bed.
lar too tired to think about sex.

Yet ve been thinking about sex all day.

very bus shelter poster of k d lang or

Roger Craig | drove past today. Lvery short
skirt and every luscious set of buns in bike
shorts. Every sparkly-cyed girl or guy I waited
on in the store; every tattoo, pierced lip (or
nose), pointy-tocd boot, fishnet-stockinged
leg, leather jacket, every tight dress, every pair
of jeans faded where the cock rests or rises,
every hole in a pair of jeans, especially where
the white warp-threads lattice and half-cover
the skin underneath; every red-painted mouth,
the darker the better, and red-lacquered nail,
especially short ones; every curve of breast or
curve of muscle under skin, in fact every curve:
every pair of young lovers or old lovers or any
sort in-between in any gender combination,
with extra points if the gender’s indistinguish-
able; every tecnaged boy trying to hide his
hard-on, catholic schoolgirl who's hiked her
skirt up or put on lacy ughts, boy's car pierced
by one gold ring, black lace bra pecking.

And at home! loo tired to notice the piles
of books and magazines with contents devoted
to sex, lingerie spilling out of drawers like it’s
trying to come alive, piles of pearly-cunted
seashells which I scatter around, all these
femmey, flowery curtains: four kinds of lube,
an antique Roseville dish full of condoms
(four kinds of those too), and a box of sex toys
that'd get me busted in Texas (and lots more

in the closet): a set of steer horns, gleaming,

pointed and priapic, red candles and ostrich
feathers and my old white-enameled wrought
iron bed with enough bars to tie two or three
people up to, not to mention the big mirror
situated next to it, all the scenes it’s seen; and
all the pictures - of my lover (now and when
he was a little boy), of my ex-lover when she
was a little girl, holding the stuffed tiger she
used to masturbate on, of my adolescent friend
who’s not old enough to think about but I do
anyway; of a turn-of-the-century dancehall girl
with a big snake, a young leatherman with a
snake, Gustav Klimt’s “Water Serpents,” two
lovers twined around each other like snakes; of
Madonna, Marilyn Monroe, the Virgin Mary,
and angels with their wings mightily unfurled,
and French whores and antique lingerie and
old pinup girls; women in sailor suits who look
like sisters but were probably lovers, holding
hands in 1919, sisters photographed by
Imogen Cunningham which I bought at the
Art Museum gift shop because their small
breasts and curved bellies look just like mine
though the shutter snapped in 1920, the year
my mother was born; Betty Dodson’s muscled
couple fucking that people always think are
both men (that’s why I bought it); and of
course my Dad, debonair in his officer’s clothes
and thin moustache who can be sexy now
because he’s dead and anyway the photo’s
from 15 years before I was born.

And somehow it still surprises me when I
find in my fatigue that I can’t sleep, that the
pillow feels too hot on my cheek, and I toss
and turn. What I love about this turn-on is
how my body won't let me forget I’ve seen all
those things today, a thousand sex-signifiers
that my mind has stored and my flesh and
blood remember.

So when J finally run my hands over my
skin I find I am already releasing into little
tension-orgasms, not real comes but little
flurries of shaking at the relief of my touch,
and if I kept this up I would drive myself crazy:
the more I touch everywhere else, the more
my pussy wants it. (Sometimes this starts with
me beginning to think about, no, just be aware
of, my asshole, and before long my body is a
writhing snake with my asshole as its hungry
mouth and nothing will satisfy me except to
slide something in and fuck myself slowly, at
first, as I can stand, as hard and fast, then, as I
can manage with my hands tense and trembling
- but not tonight.)

Tonight my clit is hard already and
insistent. My clit wants it. My skin is prickly
in a lush way; my body is full of tension, the
sex-tension so intertwined with the city-traffic-
tension and too-many-phone-calls-to-make-
tension and I|’m-on-deadline-but-I-can’t-

eans ctures |

part of natural laws, one with protons and
electrons, one with satellites circling. It’s the
clear, breathless instant before my cunt starts
pulsing stronger than my heart. It’s the second
I feel my voice get ready to howl. Tonight it’s
so strong I bellow like the stuck calf of the
Goddess, and my whole body is spasming like
my cunt - out of control, writhing and snapping,
I feel like a necklace of pearls whose string has
been cut.

The second time it’s even stronger, and with
the first squeeze of my cunt I gush scented
sex-brine all over the hand that holds the ivory
balls’ string: the balls come squirting out with
the nectar, and somehow, somehow I manage
to switch off the hot and throbbing Hitachi. I
am flushed pink and panting.

And slowly I come back to myself, begin
hearing the sound of cars again, notice the
moving shadows again on my wall. My aware-
ness comes back without the tension, like
warm liquid filling a hot bottle. I know it’s
been a big one because I feel the sweet muscle-
soreness of working out. Best of all is my skin,
wrapping me up, holding all the wet loose
pearls inside, so alive to my stroking that I
almost want to start over again, but no, I’ve
had enough for tonight - ll put myself to
sleep stroking this warm, buttered silk.

Bio: Carol A. Queen is a San Francisco
writer and sex educator. This piece is a true
story and not intended to serve as an
advertisement for the Hitachi Corporation.

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O’siyo, sisters and brothers!

Teaching about sex varied from tribe
to tribe. Some tribes were (and still
are) rather straitlaced on the subject,
e.g., the Lakota. The Lakota really
frowned on “experimentation”
among youth. Young people of oppo-
site genders were never able to be
alone together. But, if you were
engaged, a couple was allowed to
cuddle together in the same blanket,
sitting up, around the council fire or
inside the tipi, and we assume a cer-
tain amount of, um, feeling around
went on inside the blanket, though
they’d have to be careful not to wig-
gle too much. On the other hand, the
Hodenasaunee (Iroquois) and Tsala-
gi (Cherokee) were (and still are) rel-
atively relaxed on the subject of sex-
uality. The Tsalagi said
experimentation was okay, but it you
got a young lady pregnant, you mar-
ried her. The Hodenasaunee used to
have, at the time of the New Year, in
winter, the “Naked Dance”, in which
people ran through the streets of the
longhouse villages naked, and sexu-
al license were perfectly acceptable,
to encourage the return of spring and
the world’s fecundity.

Sexuality, in traditional Native
America, never was the object of fas-
cination and revulsion it is among
the Washichu*. Remember that fami-
lies lived together in the same tipi,
wigwam, longhouse, hogan, etc., so
children grew up used to seeing the.
adults making love, and learned,
therefore, that expressing love physi-
cally is sacred, satisfying, and good.

OS eS

There was an equivalent ceremony
to the Tatanka Lowan (Buffalo Sing),
but it has largely been lost. Grand-
mother Yehwenode of the Seneca
says she knows the old way of doing
it (as opposed to modern reconstruc-
tions), and is going to teach it to me.
Girls and boys both did the Han-
blecheyapi (Crying for a Vision Cere-
mony) as well as the puberty ritual,
this is the one where they fast and
stay awake at the top of a mountain
and wait for their naming vision.
Gays and Lesbians, among every
tribe about which I know anything,
were treated with honor and respect.
A person’s sexuality was not consid-
ered “lifestyle” or “personal choice”,
but their intrinsic nature as made by
G-d. The Lakota term for such peo-
ple is “winkte”, and winkte were (and
often still are) considered very brave
and wise people to whom you G0 for
special “medicine”.

References on Lakota sexuality: Read
the “Two in a Blanket” chapter in
Lame Deer: Seeker of Visions, by John
(Lame Deer) Fire and Richard Erdoes.
References on feminist and Lesbian
sexuality, mostly from a Lauguna
perspective: Read The Sacred Hoop, by
Paula Gunn Allen.

Ho! Mitaquye oyasin!

James David Audlin,

Chief Distant Eagle,
Northeastern Regional Chief,
Free Cherokees

5/93

* "Washichu” is a Lakota word meaning “Fat Steal-
er(s)”. It refers to those who “steal the fat of the
land”, who are greedy and self-centered. It also sug-
gests those who are “fat” in mind and body, who
pamper themselves and ignore the injustices that
result.

6 en m-
4! a jase " PUTTING MY COCK %
o iN YOUR ood |

eos ee hes

PLR

1 WANT MUGH M@ReE THAN 5EX.

WANT To PUT MY WHOLe BoDy
Sod INTo YOUR BODY...

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aie “te (o beer ye Se So Wie bef INTo ONE aes BoDIes
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esécd MAKES US BE TRIED. On. =e MT who LiVeS IN ONLY ONE pony le
a | REAL THat Se ay: oe me IN AN ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE SiTUaTION.. ye:
or ee oe we CaN TOUCH AND RUB oA aes pa A SITUATION fire
fe ee a | REALTY Of DSSS oes a hat IS_ONLY MADE LIVE@BLe BY ETHER Wey:
to, seAgmexe] HUMAN LQUGHTeR By COP OP mum MAGIC OR CON ON ae. i
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as i >. p p2 REaLitY “asi # SN iS DEATH
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me ah THe PRIVILeGE OF DOING IT.

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7

Poster by John Seabury, Pynotic Productions, P.O. Box 7004, Berkeley, CA 94707-0004

| hope you're doing well. I’m Professor Curtis
thanking you for your interest in FAMOUS
CULT VIDEOS. | began my video rental busi-
ness on Valentines Day February 14 1990,
and I'll tell you the truth, my life has been
tougher than shit ever since. | run my store
by myself, and | wouldn’t have it any other
way, but after two and a half years, well,
let’s just say that | identify closely with Doc-

tor Frankenstein. The reason this little store

continues to survive is because | have a
kinky collection of escapism videos. But

| cannot go on without giving thanks to the
customers also known as The Associate Pro-
_ fessors, those gifted, insightful and gener-

* ous beings who encourage me daily to pur-
chase more and more bizarre videos while
supporting my fight against the corporate
bosses who seek to manipulate our video
selections, and thus our minds, by selling us
overpriced, over-advertised remakes of
movies we already have. Why should we
spend money duplicating the efforts of oth-

- ers. If the big-heads buy 50 copies of the
same video, why should we play catch up?
We possess a unique position in the video
scene, a position which should not be
manipulated into oblivion by a bunch of boot
lickin’ corporate lackeys who don’t know if
they'll be employed next week. That

ain't freedom.

The Professors have spoken:
> WE WANT ESCAPISM, HOT SEX, d/
SHOCKING REALISM, GIVE US
CREATURE FEATURES AND

HEAR US ROAR. Top it all off

with a nice warm fuzzy, and we'll
always come back to you.

From political to violent death from

women in prison to animation, | seek out the
best and by pass the rest, to bring the cus-
tomer what they ask to see, so that they can
free their minds of the common concerns of
troubled man and find freedom now, within a
society that seeks to destroy your creative
juices before your imagination can be utilized
to make you money. Yes there is a conspira-

cy, and if you’re not part of the solution,
you're part of the problem. In order for you to
regain your strength and position in life, you
must regain total control over your own
mind. You can only regain total control
through mental escapism. Sure you can live
your life in servitude, paying out every dime
you make to everyone else except yourself,
you can even be made to believe that you
like it, and that poverty is nature in these
modern times, but it’s not true. Do you fail
to realize that the purpose of the conspiracy
is to stop you from seeking freedom. They
also intend to burden you with endless
social pressures designed to emotionally
stress you out, mentally discourage you, and
of course bleed your pocketbook dry. If you
do not escape regularly, into a world of your
own creation where you, with proper instruc-
tion, can tap your hidden resources for cre-
ativity which without a doubt will lead you to
the freedom and happiness and the money
long overdue you from the powers that con-
trol life from above, if you fail to alert others
to the true reality which surrounds them, if
you fail your duty to your family, friends and
self at this crucial point in time, your spirit
shall never find peace on Earth, or in Heav-
en, or in Hell or in Limbo, because you
allowed the conspiracy to continue unchal-
lenged. Yes, there are things that “THEY”
will not tell you. Such as: The only tools that
you need on Earth are TIME, SPACE AND
FREEDOM. When you possess these tools,
you can do or create anything you can imag-
ine, that is if your imagination still works. So
you say, what about money? Money is part
of freedom. You will need money to be free
to create your personal happiness. Speaking
of money, you can always enhance your
financial karma by donating money to Profes-
sor Curtis. Make sure to include your name
and telephone number.

By expanding your present conscious-
ness through the use of Profes-
sor Curtis’ unique program to
achieve freedom through
escapism, you too can
become a happy para-
noid, free of the burdens
of keeping up with the
Jones and relieve yourself
of the responsibilities of
Z \ modern day mental slavery,
a but first you must devote your-
self to yourself, you must decide
to be free. Continue reading this booklet.
Order often. Watch for newsletter updates.
Keep your eyes open. Say little. Listen close-
ly. All shall be made known to you.

Sincerely, ree CoS $
Professor Curtis 4 one

8/9/92

$49

There is a Spiritual connection an interlink-
ing bond between Professor and his videos.
Each video is handpicked by title and dis-
tributor for the best possible picture and
sound. Only a select few videos become a
part of Professor Curtis’ Famous Cult Video
(Ore) | (eXeidte) ae

When a video is not returned Professor Cur-

tis takes the following actions.

A) You'll be contacted at your home (by one
method or another) and urged to return
the videos A.S.A.P. (Use the mail slot if
Wel Im ate \Vom come

B) You'll receive a threatening “DEMAND
LETTER’ if step “A” doesn't
get your attention.

C) A legal. financial and spiritual CURSE will
be enacted upon your person if step “B”
doesn t get your goat.

D) Your deposit will be used and your mem
bership will be canceled if step “C”
doesnt get you movin’.

E) If you can survive the pressures placed
upon you at this point. you'll be consid-
ered “HARDCORE’. You will be taken to
the legal woodshed for rippin’ off the
Store, and of course your name will be
Slandered, NATIONWIDE.

©1993, LaBash

As the following poem's
title indicates, I spent
most of January, 1991
at Langley-Porter
Psychiatric Hospital due
to a variety of mental
and emotional problems.
Most prominent among
these problems were
attacks of rage,
uncontrollable anger,
and loss of control over
my emotions. One of the
nurses on duty instructed
me that if | should get
any warning that | was
about to lose control,

| should come to her
immediately and say

“| need to talk to you!”
Shortly after, | started
cursing and yelling and
realized my anger was
building out of control
and | went back to the
nurse saying “| NEED T0
TALK TO YOU! | NEED TO
TALK T0 YOU!" She took
me to my room and said
“lll be back in a few
minutes,” then closed
the door. The following
piece is a confessional
expression of what then
transpired.

January 1991 at Langley/Porter Psychiatric Institute

(a confessional piece)

by Steven Kauffman

the truth is...
that I did the right thing
that | did what she asked me to do
and that | told the truth

but they used words against me
words that said
| wanted to do the wrong thing
words that said
| often did the wrong thing
an even clearer distinction...
| was the wrong thing

the lie is...
that | admitted urges to harm the others
| never said that to anyone!
not to staff
not to doctors
not to nurses
not to patients

but they documented that | admitted these urges
and they threw two 5150 forms at me

at first, 48 hours,
and then,
as the second 5150 read,
indefinitely
| told the truth
and
they told a lie
and
| did what | was told to do
and
they rewarded that crime with two policemen
enforcing their rules
and
separating the rest of the patients
from

the contagion on two legs that was me
in their eyes

| said what | felt and
| said it loudly and

though sometimes | might have been out of control

and
though sometimes | might have been sedated,
I still had an active brain

and
that made me dangerous to them

$0 the cops put the cuffs on my wrists
and they bled
and the cops dragged me down the hallway
and
| could see the whole staff and the patients
walking around and beside my body

dragging on the floor

and
| looked up and | asked them
Why?

What did | do? What was so wrong? Why are you doing this to me?

and | realized...
there is no need for the truth when there is power
and there is no reason for truth to exist

when there is autonomy on the inside
and a powerless outside
and there is no need for a truth called Steven who shoots his mouth off

and
$0 easily could upset the apple cart of order
and so they set me up
and
they censored me
and

they didn’t allow me to be what | was

0,0 Orr ac
ORGS Sh: -: SAREE
a ae ee

oO)

wane
oe. OOD

RED SRR OS SAK 0 SA

* Ges
Oa SOK
Se Sok
og bs Soe

nets

ore
oot
Lan
Dod

one
one
one
D

they censored my thoughts
and

they censored my spirit
and

they censored me in an isolation tank
and

threw me in a padded cell for 24 hours
and

| pissed all over me
and

| shit all over me
because

they refused to unlock the bathroom door

when | pounded with my fists and begged them too
and

after 24 hours they opened the door
and

said | could try and escape they didn’t care
and

one hour later they came back and | was still there
and

they said all right we'll let you out

they kept me locked up
but

at least | had a bed and a bathroom
and

in exchange for that

they censored my words
they censored by brain
they censored my thoughts
so that no one else
remembered me
cared about me
and

none of the others

| didn’t care about myself

| was detached from the world and what some people call reality
and

| could feel nothing but fear and my own pain

| howled like a wolf in pain

and they gloated

for they had succinctly and successfully censored me as a person

if it wasn't for the fear and the pain | would be a non-entity

if it wasn't for the public defender and the judge at the hearing
I'd still be lying there today

and now I'm out on the street
and
supposedly they can’t touch me
and
| still tell the truth
and
| do what | think is right
and
| might trust some people

but
| rarely trust anybody | didn’t know before | was censored

I'm not a martyr
and

I'm not a hero
and

I'm not a saint

I'm just fucking scared

I'm just fucking scared all the time

I'm always looking behind me and sometimes | see them
ready

with their handcuffs and their weapons
ready

for war to begin anew

And we all better keep looking behind us

Yes we ALL better keep looking behind us

because the first or second time when you don’t see nothin’

you may be lulled into thinking you don't need to look around a third
and

when you don't look around for the third time

CENSORSHIP PLACES ITS BONEY FINGERS AROUND YOUR THROAT

copyright 1991 Steven Kaufman

icin
A LU

alfAndaranngg gg nsbtoetnrersaetdtt te batttl Up

Once there was a time of great freedom
and experimentation in the social
realms of a large technological society.
The Sex Act, which for years had been
constrained by the fear of unwanted
pregnancies, was suddenly, and radi-
cally altered by the discovery of a non-
narcotic drug which could prevent
pregnancies with almost perfect accu-
racy. The people threw themselves at
each other, as long suppressed urges
came out into the open. But it all hap-
pened too fast. In their rush to explore
and avail themselves of this new free-
dom, the people unwittingly peeled
away all of the layers of sensual touch-
ing and erotic playing which were asso-
ciated with, but not necessarily directly
connected to the most powerful part of
the sexual engagement, namely inter-
course. They took to intercourse as if it
were a drug. But they had not yet
learned all they needed to know about
their own needs.

Sowers

In the natural environment, Goril-
las, and many other primates, enjoyed
sensual touch as a part of their daily
activities. They huddled in groups,
grooming and stroking each other. This
was not only to keep their pelts clean
and free of pests. They also had a natur-
al need to touch and be touched by
each other. Their touching behaviors
were a viable means of communication,
of expressing their love for each other,
and of maintaining their health by
stimulating the energy centers in their
bodies.

But the humans forgot all of this.
They lumped all touching behaviors
together under the umbrella of sexual
engagements. But even then they hard-
ly touched at all, except as a short pre-
lude to the most intense and short-lived
part of the total touching experience,
namely intercourse, or the pursuit of an
orgasm. As a result, there were many in
the society, especially women, who felt
quite short-changed in their experience
of the touching behaviors. Those who
were bonded had access to sex, but
even so, many of them longed for the
more languid, sensual kind of touching
they needed to feel whole and healthy.
At the same time, those who had little
Or no access to intercourse were nearly
entirely starved of any kind of touching
behaviors. This made them feel quite
separate and alienated, and resulted in
many crimes of violence as these humans
tried to find the touching love they
needed but could not even ask for ...
indeed no language even existed to

describe the many facets of loving touch
and erotic play which could have been
shared and enjoyed without being
bonded to a mate.

The situation was untenable, and so
large numbers of the society met in the
dream state to decide upon a course of
action. There already existed a few dis-
eases related to intercourse, to teach
humans to be discriminate in their con-
tacts. To these was added an incurable
disease called herpes, in the hopes that
people would explore the less intense
behaviors needed by all, not just those
who were mated. But as time went on,
they realized, in their ongoing dream
conferences, that this was not enough.
So there were further dream confer-
ences. Eventually a new, stronger sce-
nario was created.

A disease called AIDS appeared. It
was incurable, and it was transmitted
only through the most intense sharing
of bodily fluids. This was somewhat of a
compromise. The idea of no one being
able to have intercourse at all was
thought to be too harsh, and would
probably lead to quarantines and death
camps, and the world had seen quite
enough of these already. If properly
protected, most people could still have
intercourse, if somewhat less intensely.
The hope was that people would look
for alternatives. It was hoped that they
would re-discover the whole range of
touching behaviors, and make these
socially acceptable for all, alleviating

+

ro

some of the pressures of alienation and
disassociation with the physical body
that are common in technological soci-
eties.

Unfortunately, the new disease only
fanned the flames of fear. Even those
who were rationally well-informed,
began to cringe not only from inter-
course, but from the entire range of
touching behaviors that the disease was
meant to promote. They had associated
intercourse with the touching behaviors
for so long that even the most innocent
touch was interpreted as sexual. Even
worse, those most in need of both touch-
ing and intercourse also associated
touch with intercourse, so they employed
touch as a way of asking for intercourse
... even when what they really most
needed was to be touched. This further
complicated matters, leading to a situa-
tion where all kinds of touching behav-
iors became taboo, and considered
inappropriate outside of a mating con-
text. Violent crimes of a sexual nature
only increased.

The Arts were very slow to respond
to this situation in a way which addressed
touching as a behavior separate from
intercourse. In the dream conferences,
there had been hopes that a new, more
sensual kind of popular dancing might
result. Instead, an angry form of danc-
ing called “slamming” came into being.
This forceful slamming their bodies
into one other in swirling mobs was
just one way the society manifested it’s

r

Pr

But it was an inappropriate response to
the situation. It was a repressed response
... an angry, frustrated, and ultimately
futile response.

Various sub-cultures tried to respond
in a healthy and life- affirming way.
Unfortunately, the taboos against touch
were so entrenched that for many peo- °
ple, the only way to break through was
by ingesting powerful psychoactive
drugs. At least one drug was tailor-made
to address the touching issue. It was
called Ecstasy. Under the influence of
the drug, the taboos against touching
and communing melted away. Under
the influence, people were able to allow
themselves to engage in physical play of
an erotic nature, without a direct con-
nection to intercourse and mating. But
because this was an experience under-
taken under the influence of this drug,
the importance of the involved behav-
iors was discounted. “We are high ... It
was just a drug trip.” Like many other
sacraments, the drug was misused. Peo-
ple took it with the intent of having a
drug experience, rather than with the
intent of breaking down social barriers
and overcoming social isolation in a
long-term way.

In small, private pockets of the soci-
ety, a few brave artists attempted to
address the situation. These few under-
stood that Art is the way that a society
dreams. They understood that within
an artistic context, a zone of safeness
could be created which would allow
people to get past their ingrown taboos,

- : :
aes 3 oy
.
2 ‘ie
- 2¥ °
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see | communal need to touch and be touched.

MITT IT alin

and reach out to each other. Rather
than getting up on the alter of the stage,
they attempted ta involve the “audience”
in a participatory experience. The need
to touch and be touched was already
lurking beneath the surface. But most
people needed to have it drawn out of
them by some unusual context, such as
a private performance/ritual.

These artists tried, as any shaman
does, to create a space where at least a
few could begin to experiment with a
new way of understanding themselves.
The artists, with their broader perspec-
tive, understood that the touching
behaviors, especially the erotic touching
behaviors, could and would alleviate
the stresses of trying to use intercourse
to meet much broader tactile needs.

Of course their vision was not well
understood in the beginning, but as
time went on......

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photos by

Rs aS - S F Be? 1 am all of you.
we OO take me

i lie against you

an extended metaphone
Bn Pe BPE Bes in work shirt
in, ta Bee BP Be between blue black waves
of sheets.

oe sometimes we undulate
2 oe in these raw places
Se secret as snakes |
our fox eyes beating in the luminous dark

Da 2 ee 98 but at the moment

O he ee we lie still
aot Be Bee = | ae Rie ay ae
breathing in the freshness
of new sheets

For PR tailored and perfect

as soft flat leaves.

we speak

about the war

any war, our

frailities,

what you will do tomorrow
it makes no difference.

behind this language
tempered with need
and distance

this language of nouns
and future tenses

is the language
of our bodies
hung briefly here
and finally silent
a dark sacrifice
between wishes

a pulse/
of blood.

© 1981 Noni Howard

smell this, honey.

1 watched a deodorant commercial
on tv and @ buxom, young woman,
sitting very upright on a couch
in a beautiful Nome, said in an
uppity, miss scarlett gone with
the wind tone, "} Just can't get
Close to a Quy if he smells."

well, dear, i can believe that

coming from a Digh-meintainance
bitch like you, but i¢ the guy's
got a dick the size of @ brick }
don't think you'd mind the b.o.

tt.
julie thought she hed heerd it 8

my wife, julie, was not
one arm. people often . e
her armlessness ae rn
stares, Which say, ft : sa
that woman's only 90

walked up and
bisg aly bao her armlessness.

“were you born an amputee ¢

ormlessness

My wife, Julie, was born
with only one arm.

she does things with
P one arm that two-

armed people take for
Oranted, like tying

er shoelaces, driving
@ stickshift, Putting
On @ wristwatch and
shooting pool.

My deodorant,"

‘lasts SNe. Says,

twice as long."

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cherotic magic
A MAJOR ATTEMPT TO INTRODUCE A
POWERFUL SYSTEM OF MAGIC INTO OUR

MODERN WESTERN EVERYDAY LIFE, THEREBY

EXPLOSIVELY EXPANDING SUCH CONCEPTS
AS SEX, HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS. THE CLEAR,
DOWN-TO-EARTH TEXT IS AMPLIFIED BY THE
NON-LINEAR TRANCE ILLUSTRATIONS BY
LABASH.

published 1990

ie
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art of a shaman .

IN art of a shaman, ORIGINALLY A

LECTURE PRESENTED AT N.Y.U., FRANK
MOORE EXPLORES PERFORMANCE AND ART
IN GENERAL TERMS OF THEM BEING A
MAGICAL WAY TO EFFECT CHANGE IN THE
WORLD. HE LOOKS AT PERFORMANCE AS AN
ART OF MELTING ACTION, RITUALISTIC,
SHAMANISTIC DOINGS/PLAYINGS. BY USING
HIS CAREER AND LIFE AS A “BASELINE”,
MOORE EXPLAINS THE DYNAMIC PLAYING

WITHIN THE CONTEXT OF REALITY SHAPING.

HE BRINGS IN CONCEPTS FROM MODERN
PHYSICS, MYTHOLOGY, AND PSYCHOLOGY.
COVER BY LABASH.

published 199]

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PERSONAL, ANARCHICAL TECHNOLOGIES
SUCH AS XEROGRAPHY, VCR, FAXS, ETC., ARE
EXAMINED IN cultural subversion BY FRANK
MOORE AS THE MEANS BY WHICH ORDINARY
PEOPLE CAN TAKE BACK THE CONTROL OF
COMMUNICATIONS AND CREATIVITY FROM
THE CENTRAL POWER COMBINE.

published 1992

cultural subversion

cD

A GUIDE TO DOWN-TO-EARTH SPIRITUALITY
AS CHANNELLED BY FRANK MOORE.
published 1987

art of living

i
° iv.
a
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cS
4

fairy tales can come true
THIS IS A FILM ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS AND DISABILITY STARRING

FRANK MOORE, WHO HAS BEEN DISABLED SINCE BIRTH WITH CERE-
BRAL PALSY. IT IS AHUMOROUS, YET REALISTIC LOOK AT HOW TO
ESTABLISH RELATIONSHIPS BY CHANGING NEGATIVE SELF IMAGE.
copyrighted 1981 35 minutes

erotic play
THIS VIDEO EXPLORES WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE OF ALL TYPES

AND AGES ARE GIVEN A CHANCE TO RETURN TO BEING A KID AGAIN.

A SIMPLE GAME OF DRESS-UP BECOMES A POWERFUL METAPHOR
FOR DROPPING TABOOS, RELEASING CREATIVE EMOTION, AND FOR
DRAMATIC CHANGE. AS A RESULT, AN INNOCENT EROTICISM IS
FOUND... AS WELL AS GETTING INTIMATE WITH 60 HUMANS.
copyrighted 1983 84 minutes

outrageous dream
A SURREAL, VISUAL POEM OF FOUND IMAGES.

copyrighted 1984 4] minutes

the nude cave
AN EROTIC, SURREALISTIC VIDEO DREAM THAT COMBINES NON-LIN-

EAR IMAGES AND FRANK’S ORIGINAL MUSIC SCORE.
copyrighted 1984 1/3 minutes

body music
EXPLORING THE HUMAN BODY AS MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.

90 minutes

30 minutes

out of isolation
A SURREAL EROTIC EXAMINATION OF AN INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP
OF NEED. STARRING FRANK MOORE AND LINDA SIBIO.

copyrighted 1989 J/05 minutes

the outrageous beauty revue

THIS RAW VIDEO DOCUMENTS THE TACKY, MUSICAL, OVER-THE-
EDGE COMEDY REVUE THAT FRANK CREATED, DIRECTED AND PER-
FORMED IN. THE SHOW RAN ON A WEEKLY BASIS FOR THREE AND
ONE HALF YEARS AT THE MABUHAY GARDENS IN SAN FRANCISCO IN
ADDITION TO A NUMBER OF OTHER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA AND NE-
VADA PERFORMANCES. FRANK PERFORMED ALONG WITH THE
THIRTY PEOPLE WHO MADE UP HIS THEATRE GROUP, “‘the theatre of
human melting.”

copyrighted 1980 approx. 30 minutes

chero collage

ATTEMPTS TO CAPTURE THE TRANCE STATE OF LIVE, SHAMANISTIC
PERFORMANCE COMBINING FOOTAGE OF SEVERAL OF chero
company’s RITUALS INTO A REALITY-WARPING VIDEO.

copyrighted 1992 27 minutes

the outrageous horror show
A LIVE CABARET SHOW THAT BREAKS THROUGH THE LIMITING

TABOOS, THROUGH MESSY NIGHTMARES, INTO THE DREAMS OF ALL
POSSIBILITIES.
copyrighted 1992 32 minutes

PRIMAL MUSIC CREATED FOR FRANK MOORE’S RITUAL PERFORMANCES.

90 minutes

inter-rhythms

nude cave soundtrack
THE NONLINEAR ELECTRONIC MUSIC COMPOSED AND PERFORMED BY FRANK

MOORE FOR THE FEATURE LENGTH VIDEO. 1/0 minutes

rock of passion
THE SOUNDTRACK OF the outrageous horror show, FRANK THE ROCKSTAR SINGS

HIS HEART OUT, LITERALLY COVERING THE GREAT HITS OF ROCK, COUNTRY,
AND HEAVY METAL ... INCLUDING SUCH SMASHES AS i am woman, i got you
babe, AND hand of doom ...

| trance rap
| WRITTEN BY FRANK MOORE AND SUNG/CHANTED BY MICHAEL LABASH WITH

A BACKGROUND OF BODY MUSIC, trance rap IS AN AUDIO INTRODUCTION TO
CHEROTIC MAGIC COVERING SUCH SUBJECTS AS eroplay, the plot of fragmenta-
tion AND magic art. ALSO INCLUDED IS THE POEM wrapping/rocking.

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REVIEWS

The Cherotic rEvolutionary #4
January 1994

“A zine about ‘the edge’ for and by people on the edge....if not over the
edge: Put out by Linda Mac and Frank Moore, amazing person who
invented the word eroplay.... For over two decades Frank has been doing
ritual trance in private and public ‘performances’ with the magic of
touch, ‘going into taboo areas, to push beyond where it is comfortable
and safe, to explore and build a larger zone of safeness. I feel a deep
gratitude for the risks and challenges the Inter-Relations group have
taken, weaving their web of magic radical possibilities. It’s like its their
lava in our eruptions. “The basic secret of magic is to like life, to love life,
to throw yourself into life so completely, so extensically that you lose
yourself as a source in the individual sense. You become a point in a
wave (from an upcoming piece of Frank's).

GAWE

“This erotic zine is put out by the Shamanistic teacher Frank Moore and
his very creative friends. You'll find thought and emotion provoking
articles, essays, poems, photos and drawings. An example is Frank's
work entitled “Tribal Performance. He expresses, «... | am not interested
in just putting my cock into your body. I want much more than sex. I
want to put my whole body into your body ... I want our naked skin to
melt together ..’ He stresses the need and importance of touching and
connecting with each other, not only with the body, but with the whole
mind and spirit. To be magically alive and to truly experience! Also, the
visual stuff is great. The front cover of TCR Volume 1 Issue 4, created
by LaBash, is especially superb. It consists of a collage incorporating
various rubber stamps such as “Turn On, ‘Free Love’ and ‘Flower Power.
Refreshingly reminiscent of the late 60's and early 70's! All this with a
sense of humor too, as evidenced by the words of Frank Moore. After
getting nice reviews and receiving ‘friendly letters’ from advertising
agencies asking for ad rates, he writes, ‘It is a cause for concern ...are we
getting too slick, too acceptable ... are we, god forbid, politically correct
... or to use the more politically correct term for politically correct ... are
we culturally sensitive? Is there a worse fate? Like being undead ...”
Open Forum #6, June 1994 (Athens, Greece)

“Thanks for TC(r)#4. You guys are doing great work?
Roma, Good Vibrations

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“A curious mixture of sex, spirituality and tribal magic. Warm Silk, by
Carol Queen was really good - truly erotic, which is something not
many things are. Generally mad bad gender bending stereotype bashing
(like people with disabilities are sexual) taboo breaking material.

Photos by Annie Sprinkle and one by Nina Glaser which I found quite
disturbing, a moving and disturbing poem about incarceration in a
mental hospital, various other poetry in lighter veins, and articles and
prose. Guaranteed to deeply offend some people and delight others.’
ByPass (England)

“Here we have a stylishly-done zine with erotica, cool artwork, photos,
poetry and more. It's fun to read and look at because it seems to have a
variety of people submitting stuff. Seeing as much of the content deals

with sex, it’s not for anti-body types.”

Sniper’s Nest #2, Fall 1994

“I just got ... The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary and I am blown away. This
is an incredible zine, you should be very proud!!! I was so impressed I
dropped everything I was doing and read it cover to cover.’

Molly Holzschlag, artist

“Frank Moore is a legend around these parts - organizing
performances and workshops about the transformative nature

of tribal sex magic. This is an intense zine mixing psychedelia, rubber
stamps, photographs, poetry, and rants ... If you cant

make it to one of his workshops he also produces books,

videos, and audio tapes.”

R. Seth Friedman, Factsheet Five

“Frank Moore has earned a name for himself in the Bay Area by
organizing performances and workshops about the transformative
nature of tribal sex magic. This intense ‘zine mixes articles on
psychedelia with photographs, poetry, and essays.”

R. Seth Friedman, Bay Guardian

“Frank Moore, with Linda Mac’s strong assistance, has not been deterred
by his 99 per cent physical disability and the inspiration he generates
with the friends who tag along are a whole story of determination in
itself. Add his challenging stand for passion, love and freedom’

Peter Riden, The Affiliate (Canada)

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“The cover art leads us to believe this issue will take us back to the
counterculture of the “60s sexual revolution. But thirty years later, what
with desktop publishing, GEnie/e-mail, Tower Records distribution,
inquiries from advertising agencies, printers & record companies and
feeling great about offending separatist/ sexist/ elitist politically-correct
feminists and gays, performance artist and shaman publisher Frank
Moore appears content with the knowledge and wisdom he’s acquired
from the successes of his lifework!! Another Highly Recommended issue
of TCR, ‘a zine about “The Edge’ for and by people on The Edge if not
over The Edge.”

EIDOS Magazine, Volume 7, Number 4, 1994

“Art, sexuality, breaking barriers’
Slingshot, Vol 1 #51, May 1994

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|

One of the things 1 will be doing in this piece
is to defend the right of bad art to be fully
protected under the Bill of Rights as a form of
speech. To do this, 1 will use the Berkeley
performance group known as the X-plicit
Players as an example of bad art.

Before we get to the particular case, we
should lay out some universal truths:

Bad art is the manure from which good
and great art springs. All artists have done
some bad art. A large percentage of art could |
be called bad art. In other words, you can not
have any art without having bad art anymore
than you can have any science without having
most experimentation be “failures. So we
have to protect the right and the freedom to do
bad art. We also have to keep the government
out of art criticism.

Now for the background to the particular
case. Berkeley until this year has not had a
law against public nudity. In fact, over the
years, performance artists such as Paul Cotton
and myself have done’“street pieces’ containing
nudity in Berkeley with community acceptance
and support. But about two years ago, public
nudity became a political issue. A U.C.
student, Andrew Martinez, who the media
dubbed The Naked Guy, began going to his
classes and walking around town nude.
Martinez seems to be an idealist suffering
om naivete ... which is natural at his age.

The college administration, as ts the nature of

the beast, expelled him.

Around this time, the X-plicit Players
began to affix themselves to the controversy
by walking nude around town and sitting in
coffeehouses wearing only chips on their
shoulders ...and of course being with Martinez
when the cameras were on him. In art, using
confrontation, in-your-face methods are very
valid to incite change. In bad art, confrontation
is often used for calling attention, recognition,

: In DefenSe of Bad Axt

to the artist creating an arrogance around the
artist. All of which may be an unavoidable, if
embarrassing, stage in an artists development.
Be that as it may, the tactics that the X-plicit
Players used created considerable resentment
in the community. That resentment was
transferred to public nudity in the minds

of a sizeable portion of the community, a
community that usually prides itself on its
openness, tolerance, and freedom. One of the
functions of art is to offend, to create tension
by revealing hidden aspects of life. The bad
artist does this for his own aggrandizement or
other questionable motives. But to keep our
freedom, we must remember that we do not

have a right to not be offended.

At this point, a Berkeley council-person,
who for some reason does not want her
children to see nude bodies, used this built-up
resentment to push through a very reactionary
law against public nudity. So the home of the
Free Speech Movement now has a law that is
clearly unconstitutional, a law that not only
outlaws public nudity, but outlaws a lot of
different kinds of clothing (including a lot of

swimsuits ... unintentionally).

To be a test case of an clearly unconstitu-
tional law is the easiest ...and one of the best
... ways for an artist to get in the papers and
in the history books. One of the exceptions to
the nudity law that the“liberals “wrote into
the law to ease their consciences was theatrical
events. That is, public nudity in theatrical
events is permitted. So the X-plicit Players
apparently put on a street theater event. And
they were arrested.

Now we come to the meat of my essay.
If the X-plicit event was held in a theater, in a
performance space, in a gallery, the X-plicit
Players would not have been arrested because
the logic of the cops would be “its in a theater,
0 it is theater’. The logic of the arrest was “it
isnt in a theater, so it is not theater, thus it is

Frank Moore

October 28, 1993

ees See

in

covered by the anti-nudity law’. The issue is
not whether the X-plicit Players are good or
bad theater/art. Rather, the issue is are they
theater/art, thus under all of the protection
afforded to theater/art. But the core issue is
can the government decree that the S.E. Mime
Troupe, the satirist/humorist Stoney Burke
who works the crowd on Sproul Plaza, street
theater, union theater, performers like myself,
are not theater or art when we do our work
outdoors, in public, in the parks, etc. No
matter what 1 or anyone else think of their
work, the X-plicit Players are a theater/
performance group.

Although the charges were finally dropped,
the bad logic of the judge at the hearing on the
constitutionality of the charges is frightening.
Judge Ron Greenberg's decision was I don't
know this is a live theatrical performance |
deserving First Amendment protection .
Greenberg explained that he had di ifficulty

in finding a satisfactory legal definition of a |

A i eR,

live theatrical performance. Because this
performance included spontaneity, he decided
to rule that the performance wou Id be viewed
as‘conduct” and not as “speech” and therefore
was not protected by the First Amendment.
Greenberg seemed afraid that a member of the
audience might“spontaneously’ at some future
performance, decide to have sexual intercourse.

Lets run that by again. A performance
that has any kind of spontaneity is not speech,
and thus not protected ... because of an
unknown possibility which may or may 7
happen sometime in the future! That would |
include any work containing any space of |
freedom, including improvisation, jamming,
jazz, dancing, and on and on. Like I said,itis

very frightening!

You bet 1 would say the X-plicit Players |
are art and theater. Freedom and art are
worth it.

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IF NOT Been ier py BER Neer = :
TC(r? I EpiToRS ARE ABA,
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THE Rone Pe EDO nea MALENKY.
LINDA ener on MANAGER $5.00 PER COPY. bg
TE Oe ecRIPT ONS, 0 AVOID TY oe
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RRESPONDE
ADDRESS ALL C° TO:
PLEAS ERS FOR AO a aie
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BERKELEY, CA 747 |

FRANK MOORE & LABASH
photo by Linda Mac

TC(R)'S AD POLICY ee
Recently we have re cai
several inquiries abot

tic A
to buy ads in eS Tir) isa xeroxed, black and

white zine that is Published
irregulary... f

if we are lucky,
twice a year. So it is not the
lace for fancy color ads or
for ads with time deadlines,
On the other hand, TCir)
magically finds its Way
around the wortd.

are not preciuding ;
we

ads, However, we wl

ather.
them eft
judge whether or

4 ad back.
accept an a0:

COVER by labash

JN BETWE
paul krassner interviewed

. photo by linda mac

EN TWO MUCKRAKERS
by frank moore

12 TELEGRAPH POLES poem by george kauffman
ODE TO FRANK MOORE poem b

CREATION: OR H

KNOW? by barbara smith

THING poem by antler @ HE WAS A
S.0.B. poem by robert w. howington

TELL poem by m

CARTOON by t.r.miller

Sliding Scale:
Garter of

TO SUBMIT AN AD

Send us a copy of your ad
and a S.AS.E. If we accept it,
we send you the rate for your
ad ... and if we need anything
from you such as half-tones,
we will tell you. if we don’t
accept it, we will send your

WN eves,

FREE TC(r) COPIES :

Because WE are not ie
looking for paid ads, <a
do not give free cople st
would-he ativertisers. é

ncourage them to buy

; : issue or two. cq

give you a free copy

in which your ad

tively

W
bac
we rite)
the issue
appears.

Frank Moore
November 12, 1993

taking what is turning out

here we go again ...
to be our annual walk on the backstage of the
real centers of (revolutionary change. it seems

we can get out only one issue a year ... not
because of any lack of great material ... we have
about half of the next (year’s) issue waiting in
our file. it’s because we have a great full life ...
which t¢(r) is one part of. in other words,
don't rush us! after all, look at this issue. wasn't
it worth the waite we have added more pages,
then crammed stuff in.

we had to because every time we go to our

p.o. Dox, it’s full of great art, photographs, and
writings from around the world. it is one of the
perks of doing a zine ... one of the privileges of
being a linking channel between you writers/artists
and you readers. and one of the hardest aspects
of being a channel is deciding what to leave out
because of limited space.

have you noticed there is a plague in all walks
of modern life of people forgetting their function
as servers? we editors tend to take our position
much too seriously (or not seriously enough). one
editor of a literary magazine actually charges
writers a dollar a poem ($3 a short story) for
the "privilege" of having her read their stuff ...
and they don’t get a comp copy if she publishes
their work} then there are editors who come
unglued if another zine prints, without giving him
"credit", a poem that he had first published ... as
if he shares ownership rights with the poet ...
maybe he has forgotten that he had neither hired
the poet to write it nor bought it from the
poet ... he had just published it. then there are
the editors who must think that when a poet
sends her work to them, she is asking them pe
their god-like judgments! ¥

1 realize that 1 and this zine are just middlemen,

7 Just a pipe. when the art goes through the pipe,

that is when the pipe is important ... not before
or after. 1 also realize that, except for when
deciding what gets into this zine, my not liking
something don’t mean shit! (again, 1 should say 1
get way more great art then we can publish.)

im honored to be able to be exposed to all of
the art!

but 1 have a bone to pick with those artists
who send lists of who has published their work
before. frankly, 1 don’t care. what we have here
is a place where we mix everything and everyone
together to get something fresh.

1 need to thank the zine community for all the
kind reviews of te(r) over the years. i only
wish they would not classify te(r) as a sex zine.
we do have a lot of sex in us. we will never shy
away from that. but we really are an anarchist/
arts/avant-gar de/exper imental/ar t/beat/cartoons/
community/counter-culture/alternatives/culture/
dada/surrealism/er otica/essays/ethics/feminism/
fiction/gay/numanism/humor/inter view/lesbianism/
libertarian/literature(general)/magic/non-fiction/
philosophy/photography/poetr y/pr ose/psychology/
satire/sex/short stories/spiritual zine .. or a life
on the edge zine ... for short.

finally, 1 need to footnote my talk with paul
krassner. i'm a very lucky guy to be able to spend
time with one of my heros ... who else has
dropped acid with groucho? anyway, when we
were talking about l.b.j., what that referred to is
the hoax paul pulled. in the 6O's, there was a
book about john kennedy that jackie had censored.
paul published what he said were the censored
parts ... in which jackie saw Lb.j. fucking john in
his neck wound in his coffin on the plane ride
from dallas. the rest is history!

see you next year ... or look for my june
performance in toronto .. or in the bay area!

on saxoP rifts;
mouth, high sweet § ds
. Tn Pan Alley songs '"
1 was written of the
note of &
ole Virginy
: {ROMBONE

Heung? drum
TERS DRE a it
New Orleans ke-it-UP ghere, higher cry,
toneral-march jarinet, eo-carTy Dore”
down the mississiPPl on a blin’ t, with ramblin
meliowton® sliding > yly over: near det, aimost
into me AHOLE note! your throat, Billie!
Giving it all UP nly swe ess will e out your mouth,”
4 was axophone rifts, uwhat ¢ diff-rence day
makes Billie, ™ yo hat diff-en< did it make
who mis odds, th ods were yours ych as any
e wear g, § uth aring New Yor oP cop :° but you
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just-born in nce
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still GOVE “¢ all, in snnocenc®
n strange® places than to
ure all night lens in
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which lays i"
to whore houses: jazz, P
giving ith to the blues. baby sh
joxrstEEE™ in the night
trombone: mello sliding slyly ove” neart ynder almost
«nto the WHOLE in yo throat BILLIE!
joxxxemmEE in the night in YOUr throat, piLLiet
-poroth Jesse peag!

Dear Frank Moore,

My name is Yana Petrova,
I'm from Moscow (Russia). Not
to long ago I read an interview
with you in “PMagical Blend”
and was really shocked, as it
was a real revelation to me;
revelation, yes, as not having
chance (and not know if some
time will have) to talk with you
or take part in your perform-
ance. I felt just reading this arti-

completely as for a long time
already I’m interested in study-
ing the ancient ways “to break
through” the reality for our small
physical eyes. But unfortunately

I didn’t manage to realize myself

or let’s say I feel the lack of ener-
gy in myself for that or ... study-
ing and reading doesn't change
being. When you feel that you
are full of information, when you
feel that may be even you have
some knowledge inside you that
can be expressed out in some
way, and you can not do any-
thing - it’s awful, painful, really,
when you feel like in “shell”, you
feel this “shell” on your way and
can not do anything. I'm not

bodyly-deformed but the effect of

isolation that this psychological
shell gives is the same. I stopped

“can't do anything.

some time ago almost all con-
tacts with people as even if you
have many friends it doesn’t
change anything — the level of
communicating is superficial, it
doesn’t involve any inside energy
and I studied and read books to
have idea what was the ancient
way — I was looking through
ancient sacred arts, religious art
(starting from Christian religion,
then the art of Indians (xleso-

Frank, if only I had chance
to come to you, I would do it
immediately but for me, at least,
in the near future it is impossible
and that's why I'm asking you
very much to send me your book
“Cherotic Ixagic” or some kind
of your work that you feel can
help me a lot. 'm asking you
that as I feel that the realization
that I'm in some contact with
you can be of great help for me
as it’s much much better to con-
tact with you by letter than to
see those people who satisfied
with their life but arise despair
in me.

With love and
admiration to you,
Yana

September 10, 1993

Dear Yana,

Thank you very much for
your great and amazing letter.
It fuels us to know that what
we do here effects someone
like you half way around the
world. Most people do not
take the time to wnite. So you
wrote for them too.

Iam enclosing a packet of
material about my work. In
this packet there is Art ofa
Shaman, which is the lecture

J give at universities. It isa
good introduction to the kind

What is before you is a quest
for people who will fulfill your
needs ... and you theirs. It is
a spiritual quest. All quests
involve a certain amount of
pain, rejection, and so on.
But what comes out of such
a quest is very much worth it
... not only for you, but for
everyone. Grab onto trust,
faith, and happiness.

I hope someday you can
come to study, work, and
play with me.

In freedom,
Frank
September 30, 1993

Dear Frank,

First let me say, “THANK YOU” for such
a thrill and exciting venture. | truly enjoy
your publication, it is a delightful taste of
sweetness:atter the shit which has been

There is also af educational: Value to this
Zine, for one definitely leaves with far more
knowledge than one starts with. Veronica
Vera's artide “GLORY! GLORY hole-leluhia!”
is proof of this. Very beautifully written. But
then, what else could you expect from a
very beautiful woman.

Sincerely,
Al Cunningham
August 6, 1994

NOOKIE DAYS OVER

My nookie days are over
my pilot light is out.
What used to be my sex appear
is now my water spout.

Time was when, of its own accord,

from my trousers it would spring.
But now I have a full time job
to find the blasted thing.

It used to be embarrassing
the way it would behave.
For every single morning
it would stand and watch me shave.

Now, as old age approaches,

it sure gives me the blues
To see it hang its withered head

and watch me tie my shoes.

-Al Cunningham

a letter from robert w. howinoron

frank, feb 10 (1994) —

last three weeks been doing MUCH better
regarding separation/divorce. thinking about other
things — getting on with my life. the depression shit
i was going thru was pure d HELL. it seems to have
ended for the most part. julie filed our divorce papers
yesterday. so im hanging in there and getting on
with life.

the latest TCR is luscious. loved the way you
presented my poems! beautiful magazine. art, layout
is top dog. lot of care and effort involved. and love.
honored you think so highly of my stuff to showcase
it so well.

here's some more of it. SASE. and other stuff.

beth blachowiak, she had a poem in FE #2 or 3,
wrote me the other day and said she had a poem
rejected by the Univ. of Wisconsin's lit mag because
she refused (good for her!) to take the word ‘fucking’
out of it. I love reading Buk poems where he rails
against the academia. i couldn't say it any better so_

i don’t even try. it’s just that these people are in a

totally different world than ours. i was in that world
when i went to TCU and UTA.and picked up 77
hours but all the time i knew i didn't belong so i
finally dropped out.

i always give my readers credit for having
imaginations. i don’t explain things in my stuff —
readers can figure it out themselves. i don't describe

things — in my poem called A HOME MADE KILLER...

the protagonist was a cockroach. Everybody knows
what a cockroach looks like. no need for description.
i get caught up in telling a story not what the fucking
story looks like. i like Buk so.:much because he tells
us a story and stays the fuck outta the way while
doing it. KISS (keep it simple stupid!) is what ALL
writers need to learn. WHO WHAT WHERE AND
HOW. old journalism ism. got a rejection yesterday
from SOAPBOX: ‘your poems contained subject
matter that is just not suitable for what we'd like to
accomplish.’ LOVED that rejection slip. The TRUTH
is censored once again. so why in the hell do they
call their mag a SOAPBOX? isn’t that something a
get up on and say what you wanna say?

BRIX END and KEROUAC's poetry readings are
mostly attended by very young college kids acting
‘cool’, but the thing is some serious people like me
show up and let them know that there are people out
there with demons to exorcise and they will have to

watch that exorcism up there on that stage whether

they like it or not. And they do like it because they
REACT with the appropriate laughter after what i
tell them — autobiographical poems about basic real
life. I bring them a side of life they'll never have to
experience — total failure. a loser. with their parent’s
money they'll never have to work at a job they hate
or have to make a living, buying clothes and furniture
at the flea market or thrift store. they can just breeze
along and maybe for them that’s the best way.

Life is one big suck and were all caught in the
whirlpool.

read last thursday night at KEROUACS. started
off slow by fucking up a poem with a misspeak. but
i picked it up and had them laughing at end. i think
not being nervous this time made me relax and get
overconfident. so being nervous does help keep you
aware i guess. some guy came up to me afterwards
and said he liked hearing my BUK-inspired shit. he
said, “Man, Bukowski is the GREATEST. All these
poetry readings are usually boring but your stuff
was like hearing Bukowski.” So that made me feel
good and appreciated. Again, the people up there
were pretty boring, but a couple people, especially
the MC John Myers and this freaked out black chick
whod Id fuck, did some good shit. John told us
about the time he blew.up.a dead dog by accident.
his mom told him to burn the dog in one of those —
big 60 gallon drum barrels because they lived out in
the boonies and there was no trash pickup so they
had to burn everything, even dead animals. so john
dropped the dog in the drum and poured gas on it.

not sure if this was enuff he poured a bunch MORE —

gas on it. he soaked the dog thru. he stood back and
lit a stick and tossed it into the drum. BOOM! the

dog’s carcass exploded out of there and flew over his _.

head spilling guts and maggots on him. he said he
threw up his breakfast and his back yard began
catching on fire from all the dog parts that were _
flaming. he stamped out all the fires with his shoes
and then had to douse the main dog carcass with
water to get it to stop burning. he said he was known
at high school as ‘dog mortar boy’ from then on.

i wish i COULD tell those ‘poetry’ poets at
readings to stick it up their asses. but, hey, pobody
reacts to their shit except WITH polite applause...
that’s saying something right there W/O saying

something. at least i get the fuckers laughing with »

one or two of mine because they can IDENTIFY ..
with what’s going on in the poem. THE TRUTH i isa

~ powerful weapon that makes people react in ALL

kinds of ways. Mostly bad.

I read at the BRIX END for the third time on Jan

12. Went over toa friend's prior to and got fucked
up on some weed. i can't read sober. i get too fuckin’
nervous; anyway, we get there and this friend’s
friend is the musical guest and he plays asset of —

acoustic guitar. he’s in a band called CREAM OF.

MUSHROOM. they play local clubs like The Hop. »
Tim's got a hell of a voice. The man can BOOM out
lyrics. then the open mic poetry starts. the stuff is

~-awtul of course. if it doesn’t speak to me then I’m

not interested. for the people whove read the mags
and chaps i've published under HOMEMADE ICE
CREAM PRESS you know what i like, what i identify
with. that’s what id like to hear at these poetry
things but forget it (unless ‘weasel boy’ or w. bryan
massey III or Joel Mathews are up there. these guys
can go up and tell me something.) except for a
couple by jesse garcia the reading sucked as usual.
most of these poets should just kill themselves and
get it over with and spare us their personal torture.
the featured poet kept mentioning his book that was

on sale at Borders Book Store (a national chain).
After reading some of his shit from outta his book
he can forget about any sales, the dumfuck. especially
after he informed the gathered slackers (i think that
term replaces the long -standing ‘bohemian’) that
he is a fuckin’ cop pig. a distinct and collective ‘gasp
went up from out of our mouths upon his revelation
and our coffee cooled off as the room grew cold. it’s
a god damned good thing i didn’t read any of my
pot smoking poems or he'd have handcuffed me on
stage on conspiracy charges. FUCK YOU, PIG! And

fuck your god damn sorry ass poems, you fuck wad!

His thirty minutes of poems were as dull and as
wasted as any poetry could get. Most of it rhymed
and most of it had an intended message — we were
being preached to, not ae but what do you
expect from a pig? ?

as i write this im listening to a MOTHERFUCKERS
cassette called ‘second coming’ and there's a girl on
it gasping/moaning from getting fucked by a non-
stop fuck machine. turning me on but now it’s over
and i go back to this letter.

at the break i sat and talked to Big John Parker,

the king of slackers. He’s an old, heavyset guy who
~ewanders around Fort Worth on the city bus system.

he’s at the BRIX END poetry reading every
Wednesday. “Gotta take the bus everywhere because

“my car is broke. I have no job so I can't get it fixed,”

he said. He's white and lives in the middle of Poly-
technic Heights, the blackest part of Fort Worth.

~The house where he stays is at the corner of Miller

and Crenshaw. A redneck businessman friend of his

bought the house for one of his mistresses. She went

~~ in there and spent a load of this guy’s money on
_ furnishings then suddenly bolted for something
“4 better. John’s friend didn’t want to rent the place
_ fearing the renters would rip off all the top of the

line furniture, electronics and drapery. “Also, it’s a
pues where he can puaing his $2 dollar whores from

said. “He Ditties them over at all times so it ain’t too
Be over there, When I moved in he gave mea

let any niggers come in here and rip me off.’ Ifit
werent for my friend I'd be on the streets sleeping
under a bridge or at the Presbyterian Night Shelter

“or the Union Gospel Mission.”

John’s tale was the most entertaining oratory
of the night and im the only person who heard it.
Maybe I'll write a poem about it sometime and his
words won't be lost.

I read three poems and got a good laugh out of
the second one called AHOME MADE KILLER,
which is the first poem i'd written since my break
up with Julie. It was a poem about a cockroach
inspired by a poem i read in Kill Robertson’s ‘bear
crossing’ chapbook. I think when I read my shit the
people listening don't really get it because they've
been listening to this other shit that is more like the
poetry you read in the schools. but my shit is direct

and to the point. little slices of reality. incident
ol)

literature, bukowski has called it in SCREAMS
FROM THE BALCONY book. i'm facing my demons
head on. that kinda stuff after finishing the audience
politely clapped like they do after every poet no
matter if the guy sucked or succeeded. so i couldn't
really read what they thought. nobody said anything
to me as i sat there afterwards (but the guys i went
there with did say the following day that they liked
my shit. that made me feel all right. Tim said, “I bet
you get sick of people telling you they like your
stuff.” No, Tim, i said, i don’t get tired of it. in fact,
you could tell me you like my stuff all over and over
again and you'd never lose my attention.) so i felt
like i failed to wake up these dead fuckers (even
though most were just kids they were still DEAD).

i left after the PIGGIE’S reading and a couple of the
slackers followed me out and both said they liked
my shit. this really made me feel great. their sincerity
touched me. i sucked that feeling down deep into
my lungs and kept it there so i could get the full
effects of their complimentary hit. they also liked
the MOTHERFUCKERS shirt i had on. i got one of
them to give me their address and i sent them info
on the MOTHERFUCKERS and copies of a couple
of chaps I've been in.

On the 13th I met Kevin ‘weasel boy’ White at
KEROUAC'S coffeehouse on West Berry near Texas
Christian University a little after 9 p.m. This place
has a poetry reading every Thursday. KEROUACS is
a lot more laid back than the BRIX END. There's
even a pool table in there and a tall bookshelf full of
books and even games like checkers and chess. At a
couple of the tables people were playing chess and
dominoes during the readings. And a couple of guys
were playing pool. Espresso seemed to be the popular
beverage. I read A HOME MADE KILLER here and
it went over well again. Kevin said, “I like that one.”
Kevin read from his weasel boy mini-book and he
had the crowd of very young looking college students
and the usual slackers (aren't they the same thing
really?) laughing the whole time. Kevin is very cool
onstage and can play an audience into his hands with
such ease i sit there in awe and think i wished i could
do that. His weasel boy book is $4 cash/checks to
Kevin and you can send that money to POB 470701,
Fort Worth TX 76147. It's 72 pages of Kevin's wisdom
and insight into everyday things that turn into neat,
compact poems. Funny stuff. I highly recommend
it. He sold three copies at the reading. “The last time
I sold some copies at a reading I went to Fred’s Cafe
and blew the money on beer,” Kevin said. “I think
I'll hold onto this money tonight.” As I sat there
drinking a Coke and listening to the people read (and
the reader’s here were much better than at the BRIX
END) I wrote a new poem called SAY IT AIN'T SO.

I ended up going onstage a second time and read it.
I got a laugh from the people I had published in
Driver's Side Airbag #10. The reading wound down
around 11 p.m. and Kevin and I left saying we'd

be back.

Got a 7-11 coke flavored Slurpee here with a shot
of jack daniels in it. damn it tastes all right. good in
these bad times.

got four rejections in the mail on the SAME day
and to just make matters worse all the editors said
they liked some of the stuff BUT.

the editor of CHILDREN, CHURCHES &
DADDIES said, “Some of your work is very much
like Ai’s work, but your statements could be made |
more powerfully if you used more vivid descriptions
than the bluntness of some of your ‘quotes.”” She

®

wants me to send more stuff. But, hey, it’s ALL gonna
be as blunt as the shit I sent her the first time. She
hasn’t been an editor long enuff to know not to invite
repeat subs unless you think there is definitely going
to be something in the poet’s catalog you'll like. And
I don’t know who in the hell Ai is. Do you? And what
the fuck is wrong with being blunt and laying it down
like it really is? Bukowski had the same trouble with
these dumbfucks who think they know what good
poetry is. He’s probably been the most rejected poet
on earth.

Sent my shit to two more university lit mags.
Have never been accepted in one of these stiff upper
lip ‘journals’. Still haven’t after these both rejected
me. GRASSLANDS REVIEW of The University of
North Texas said,”’Yeah, I Love My Car’ came very
close — good ‘attitude’ there. ‘Art Is In The Box Of
The Eye Of The Beholder Of Pen And Paper’ is good
little story! I like the idea. I like the dialogue at the
end, but I find the story as a whole lacking. I think
the sentence structure is too simple.” Has this
educated person ever heard of KISS — keep it simple
stupid? They teach it in journalism classes but i
guess ‘creative’ writing people are above that maxim.
And ‘lacking’ what? I think this motherfucker is
lacking the guts to publish original, unordinary
bleak straightahead and into your gut shit. FUCK
YOU NORTH TEXAS and your goddam ‘committee’
of editors.

OWEN WISTER REVIEW is out of the University
of Wyoming, I think. Says its ‘committee’ spokes-
person, Georgette, “I do want you to know that ‘The
Next Time A Woman Swallows’ had me in stitches!
It was a candidate up until the absolute last cut.

I loved it.” I think we know why the ‘committee’
balked here: The poem was about a certain sex

act and we know sex is kept behind closed doors in
mainstream american university lit mags. hush,
hush. it’s not proper even though it’s the fucking
truth. FUCK YOU TOO U OF W!

Okay, the last knife in my back. INSOMNIAs
Rocco said, “Couldn't seem to get all i liked into
the issue at hand - thanks for sending anyway.”
Yeh, and fuck you too for sending me that reject,
muthafucka!

I thot the idea was if you liked it you published it.
That's the way it’s been here. Why can’t it be that
simple?

Okay, all HIC PRESS operations are suspended.
Don't know if I'll ever do another BASK and will
hold subs for that until i do decide. Drive-by will
probably never be done but will hold its subs until
further notice. Have sent all poems accepted for
Flaming Envelopes to Robb Allan at Silent Treatment
litmag. He’s low on submissions so he'll use all of it.
Don't have the juice left to do this small press stuff.
Will from now on do my own chapbooks. I'm gonna
be a selfish pig. maybe write that ground-breaking
novel (yeh, sure!).

- or Sy
feel like doing drive-by. yeh. >

H.R.GIGER

H.R. Giger Under Your Skin

It is still not too late!

One year ago, at the 1993 Ink-Credible
Tattoo Convention, H.R. Giger was present-
ed an award for the inspiration his artwork
has given to the international tattoo communi-
ty. He also had the rare opportunity to meet
many of his tattoo “collectors’’ who have ded-
icated their bodies to displaying his art.

As an acknowledgement of this phenome-
non and as “Thank You” to both the tattoo
artists and the “collectors”, Leslie Barany
Communications is assembling photos for a
unique tattoo book, H.R. Giger Under Your
Skin, to be published in 1995.

For inclusion of your tattoo in the book,
please send high-quality color transparencies
(preferably taken by a professional photogra-
pher) against a dark or solid background.
Include close-ups of the tattoo and, if possi-
ble, at least one shot with the person’s face in
the photo. Please include written information
for each tattoo, the painting it was derived
from, the names of the tattoo artist, the shop,
the “collector” as well as the name of the
photographer. Be sure to include all their
addresses and telephone numbers. It will be
assumed that publication rights are granted
for all materials received. All photos will carry
the © copyright of the photographer.

Also send Giger-inspired flash or anything
painted with Giger’s artwork, i.e. motorcycles,
cars, Clothing, etc. If you live in the New York
City area and need help photographing your
tattoo, please call and a photo session will be
arranged for you.

Send your contributions, ASAP to:
Leslie Barany Communications
121 West 27th Street, #202

New York, NY 10001

Tel: (212) 627-8488

Fax: (212) 463-7983

BOWoetsalion Belwech

4

:"

Dwo

PAUL KRASSNER SMARVISNED BY ERANK MOORS
BRIN 80, LEDS, BERKELEY, CLOVCRNDE

Paul: Ready when you are coach.

Frank: Why have not you gotten big?

P: (laughs) Well, big is relative. Sometimes
people hear my name and they think I’m Paul
Kantner from the Jefferson Airplane. And I
wonder the same thing myself sometimes.

I performed last week and somebody called me
an unacknowledged Robin Williams. But I think
its, you know, on one hand its because I haven't
compromised ... and on the other hand it’s
because I’m lazy.

F: Me too!

P: Welcome to the club.

F: But I have worked hard not to get big.

P: Well, (laughs) I could handle getting big
because I would like to reach a lot of people,
but ... and it could happen. I’m ready to sell out.
But I wouldn't sell out, they would buy in.

F: (laughs) Don’t you reach a lot of p...?

P: P...? Do I reach a lot of p (laughs) or people?
Yeah, well when The Realist was a magazine, it
reached a hundred thousand people, and a
million pass on ... now it’s only a newsletter, it
reaches 5,000 people and maybe several
thousand pass on readership, and then with my
book, it sold 15,000 copies and we published in
paperback more. So, I think that I’ll probably
reach more people when I'm dead. (laughs)

F: Always.

P: Oh yeah...it’s probably true of Abbie Hoffman
and Richard Nixon.

(both laugh)

F: Why did Abbie (Hoffman) kill himself?

P: Abbie was clinical manic/depressive ... and he
had injured his foot and was in a lot of pain and
he was separated from his girlfriend, and he
wanted to start a school for organizing but he
didn't have the money and so ... I would like for
him to have stayed alive, but nobody can judge
the level of anybody else’s pain, so I guess that
was his final act of power to get rid of his pain,
physical and emotional and you know it made
me sad and angry but it was his choice.

F: How did you start the Yippies?

P: We wanted to protest the war in Vietnam and
the yippies was just a name I made up to
describe this phenomenon that already existed,
it was the hippies and the political activists and
at first they thought they were adversaries and
the hippies thought that the political activists
were just playing the game of the administration
and the political activists thought the hippies
were dropping out and not being responsible.
But then they realized ah, that if a hippie was
smoking a marijuana joint in the park, that was a
political act of defying an unjust law. And the
hippies saw that the political activists by protest-
ing the war had the same value system and so
they began to affect each other. So the political
activists started to smoke dope and let their hair
grow long and wear tie-dyed shirts and the hip-
pies, instead of just staying in the park, went to
anti-war rallies and civil rights’ demonstrations.
So it was happening already ... and sometimes
you have to just give a name to something that’s
already going.

F: Yes.

P: Oh, you agree ... that was easy ... | agree with
your agreement.

F: | alwaysinvent...

P: Wait, what word am I dealing with here ...?
Oh, invent ... yeah.

F: ... words.

P: The other word I invented was “soft-core”
pornography because the Supreme Court said
that hard-core pornography wasn’t protected

by the First Amendment. And so soft-core
pornography meant, you know, they use it in TV
commercials ... that’s soft-core pornography ...
it gives a man a soft-on. What words have you
invented?

F: When | and Linda were in Annie Sprinkle’s
video on orgasm, she wanted us to do safe sex.
(both laugh) But we have been in a relationship
for 20 years.

P: Well, that’s about as safe as you can get.

(both laugh)

F: Exactly. That was what I told Annie. But, (both
laugh) she wanted to be politically correct.

P: (laughs) So some people fake orgasms, youd
have to fake safe sex.

F: Finally she said we could do soft-core.

(both laugh)

P: She stole my word.

F: What is that? (laughs)

P: Soft-core...?

F: But, we agreed.

(both laugh)

P: Well that was very agreeable of you ...
anything to help out Annie. That’s why we were
late, we were having dinner with her (Annie) ...
and you know, she likes to talk while she's eating.
F: I just did a review of her show.

P: Oh yeah? I assume you liked it.

F: The show, yes. Her (Annie), yes. But, the
goddess, no.

P: That's very interesting, because, she talked
about the goddess today and I thought a female
god is just as unlikely as a male god. Excellent.
F: Exactly.

P: Oh, I’m glad you thought that, because I
thought that today, and it’s nice to have
consensus on reality.

F: We all have both in us.

P: Oh, so you objected to her just doing only the
female goddess?

F: The gender.

P: Well, you know, Robert Anton Wilson once
wrote in The Realist that if people continue to
refer to god as “he” then they should think of

a giant penis in the sky.

F: So, now it is a cunt ...

P: (laughs)

F: ... in the sky.

P: That's right and that’s why when we hear
thunder it’s just cock and cunt fucking in the sky
... that’s what thunder is ... and lightening.

F: Annie is nota seperis...

P: What word am I on... wait, start again ...
Annie is not a...

F: Separatist.

P: Oh, no but she has great cleavage ... that’s

pretty separate.

F: But the separatists are using her ...

P: The separatists are using her? Oh, the
separatists are using her ... yeah, you can't
control what people do with what you put out.
You know, if we didn’t get misunderstood, you
and me and her, we wouldn't be dojng our job
right. The separatists are using her ... for what?
F: To justify their trip.

P: Right. It’s always that way. Everybody has
their own agenda and it's true, it’s
true ...and they'll use us too. But
that’s ok. It’s better than not being
used at all.

F: Don’t you build in bombs? :
P: Don't I build in bombs? (laughs) iy
Well, in a way. (both laugh) In a
way ... don't I build in bombs? . ‘
Yeah, to fool them. To fool them?
Yes, it’s like magic, sometimes, to
divert their attention ... if that’s
what you mean? Or, it’s like a lawyer
will give seven objections when. e
only wants one or two, sohebu !s
in a few bombs, if that’s what you
mean? And if I write something for
a magazine, I may put something
that I know they'll take out and
they'll leave something else in. So if
that’s what you mean by a bomb,
yes, I build them in.

(Frank laughs)

F: Me too.

P: Yes, were the secret bombers.

F: Are people more serious now?

P: Some of them are, some of them
arent. I think they both happen at
once ... and it’s not separate either,
it’s two sides of the same coin, you

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know, serious and frivolous. And

I think what people get serious €
about are their own hang-ups. :
F: Maybe I mean fragile.

P: Oh, more fragile. In a way yeah,
because of diseases and because of
gangs, you know, fragile because ... it’s like what
kids in the ghetto have in common with kids in
Bosnia at the age of 14 ... they are already plan-
ning their funerals.

So, that is fragility at it’s most heightened state.
Yeah, because the quality of life is fragile, so
people are more fragile. Yeah, that’s an accurate
word for it.

F: When I was growing up, I was dumb. I did not
know I could not do things so I did them.

P: Oh, (laughs) yeah, me too. Right, and then
they told you you couldn't do it, but it was too
late, cause you already did.

F: But, now people think they cannot and they
blame whatever.

P: They blame whatever? Well, yeah, that’s the
trend now, blame. That's one of the biggest
things is blame. People blame their astrology
chart ... people blame their childhood ... and the

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ultimate is people blame the victim ... it’s the
victim's fault for getting in my way.

F: So how can you do satire?

P: Well, you just report what’s happening, and
they think you're making it up. I have an article
in the new Realist on a support group for people
who drink their own urine. It’s a real group! But
people think I made it up. (both laugh) But it

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doesn’t make any difference because it gets in
their consciousness.

F: That was one of the things I loved about

The Realist.

P: Me too.

F: You can not tell what is real. (laughs)

P: | know, sometimes I don’t even know myself.
Sometimes I'm not even sure if the page numbers
are real. (laughs)

F: My dad got pissed at the LBJ ...

P: LBJ! (laughs)

F: ... fucking.

(both laugh)

P: Oh, well, a lot of people got pissed off at that.
You know now Frank, that was in 1967, so this is
... 67 ... 77 ... 87 ... twenty what years .. .27 years
and people still come up to me and tell me how
that blew their minds. So, yeah, I can understand
why he would get pissed, you know, it’s no surprise.

|e
wad

F: And my mom thought it was real! (laughs)
P: Well, it was real. How do you know? A lot of
people thought it was real. Sometimes only for
five minutes, but that was good enough for me.
(laughs) Because they thought Lyndon Johnson
was Ok for dropping napalm but they thought he
was crazy when they read that, and that was the
point ... so your mother was in good company.
A lot of people thought it was
WWW47__ real. But that meant that she
3 Me ~ thought that LBJ was capable of
it.
F: And he was!
P: Oh, and he was capable of it
... yes, yes. (laughs)
F: I like playing with reality.
P: How do you play with
reality? I mean, I do too, but
everybody has their own way.
F: One trick is to say, “But, I
may be lying.”.
P: I know, do you know the
average person lies 25 times a
day. But that includes the times
we lie to ourselves.
2); (both laugh)
, F:I do 48 hour performances ...
P: Forty-eight hours? Well,
that’s more than I do. If do an
{ hour and a half I'm satisfied.
LINDA (laughs)
MAc
F: ...where I mix realities up.
P: Oh, yeah, well, look, if reality
mixes us up, then it’s only fair
that we mix reality up ... tit for
& tat. (laughs)
© F: Like Andy ...
= P: Warhol?

F: ...Kauffman.

Y2J) P: Oh, Andy Kauffman? Oh, the

* comedian? Oh, yeah, yeah ... he

Yi) H did that good. I remember him.
He was just on the edge ... you
know, you just watch it to see is he really going to
go on with this? Yeah, he played with reality ... I
like that.
F: And you were never quite sure.
P: It’s true ... it’s true ... he was on the edge ... he
was on the edge. He may still be alive, that may
be his ultimate playing with reality.
F: (laughs) That is what The Realist did.
P: Yeah, that was the purpose to find the left and
right lobes of the brain and get between.
F: How did you get there?
P: Well, I started at Mad Magazine. My jacket
has Alfred E. Newman on the back...“What, me
worry?” But that was for teenagers and there was
nothing for adults and I wanted something for me,
cause I figured ] wasn’t the only one ... I wasn’t
the only martian on the block. And so it was
kind of to find who else was out there. So we could
have our own martian tribe. So, I was working

for Lyle Stewart who had a newspaper called The
Independent and it was anti-censorship. And so
when I started The Realist it was a combination
of the satire from Mad and the anti-censorship
from The Independent.

F: But in Mad you knew it was not real.

P: Well, that’s true, but I took it a step further
because | also published serious stuff and if]
labeled it, like Playboy labels something: satire,
article, fiction ... And I wanted the readers to
decide for themselves. I didn’t want to take away
the pleasure from them. Or I didn’t want to take
away the confusion from them either. (laughs)

F: Exactly.

P: Exactly.I know this board already now ... I can
do it with my eyes closed. So, you didn’t tell me a
word that you invented.

F: Eroplay.

P: Eroplay? Oh, like erotic play. I like that, that’s
good ... ok. Well see, that will be in the dictionary
some day ... after we're dead.

F: People are using it.

P: For what?

F: In their language.

P: Language? Eroplay?

F: It amazes me...

P: Oh, yeah. I know.

F: ... how fast.

P: It’s true. Cause everything is accelerating now.
In the 60’s when the word “black” replaced the
“negro’, they didn’t do it right away. But now,
when “african american” replaced “black”, they
did it quicker, cause everything’s accelerating ...
including “soft-core” and “eroplay”.

(both laugh)

F: How did you get to edit Lenny...

P: ... Lenny Bruce's book? Well, Playboy Magazine
serialized it and they knew that Lenny and I knew
each other and he was writing it but ... they
needed somebody to help structure it and to
draw him out ... get questions answered. And

so they asked me. And I jumped at the chance,
because he was a rare individual and influenced
comedians today who don’t even know they were
influenced by him. And he was attacked for the
language he used, but he was really attacked
because he used organized religion as a target.
And that was really why they went after him.

F2 Who.

P: ... Lenny Bruce were talking about ... oh ...

F: ... but, who went after him?

P: Well, the police ... if the police would go after
him in San Francisco, then the police in Los
Angeles would say we got to go after him, then
the police in Chicago say well we got to go after
him. Especially in Chicago where the church was
big. When he was on trial in Chicago it was Ash
Wednesday, and all the jurors and the judge and
the prosecutor had the ash on their forehead
there. It was very spooky.

F: | am playing dumb ...

P: Oh, well, ] am dumb. I am playing dumb ...

ok ...devil’s advocate.

F: ... because lots of people don’t know.

F: Oh, yeah, of course, that’s right. Ok, well,
when you play dumb, youre playing with reality
again.

(both laugh)

F: They think he self-destructed.

P: Yeah, a lot of his friends thought that at the
time. But, you know, it’s just a matter of opinion.
I think to be consistent with your principles is
not self-destructive, but a lot of people thought
he should compromise. And that would have
been self-destructive.

F: They say he was not funny any more.

P: He got serious, but ... when I first interviewed
Lenny I asked him, “What's the role of a comedi-
an?” And he said, “To get a laugh every 15 to 25
seconds.” But then later on, when he was reading
from court transcripts and police records ... and
I said to him, “Lenny, youre not getting a laugh
every 15 to 25 seconds.” (both laugh) And he
said, “Yes, but I’m changing.” And I said, “What
do you mean?” He said, “Well, I’m not a comedi-
an, I'm Lenny Bruce.” So he knew that he had
become a symbol of free speech. He was still
funny, but he didn’t get a laugh every 15 to 25
seconds. He was funny sardonic.

F: It is like when Mort (Sahl) went after JFK’s
killers.

P: That's true, yeah, he dropped out, Mort Sahl
dropped out and worked for Jim Garrison as a
researcher. And he wasn’t funny then. And there
were times when I got heavy into conspiracy
and the readers would complain. And I said,
“Sometimes you have to earn the right to be
funny.”

(both laugh)

F: Who is doing that today?

P: You mean besides me? (laughs)

F: And me!

(both laugh)

P: Just us. Nobody else. No, there’s a few, there’s
a few ... there's a comedian named Jimmy Tingle
whos good. There's Elaine Boosler, who's good.
There's a few. But most of them talk about their
first date or TV commercials or airplane food.
They're like clones on a conveyor belt in a
factory, most comedians. But there are a few
good ones.

F: How about the black?

P: Yeah, there's a few. There’s a guy named
Franklin Ajai (sp) whos excellent. Who else ... ?
A lot of the black comedians are very raunchy.
But who else is good that I’ve seen ... ? Richard
Pryor is kind of sick. Dick Gregory is making diet
powder. (laughs) There are some new black
comedians, but I think that Franklin Ajai and
Paul Mooney are two of the best. I haven't seen
them all. They have on HBO Def Comedy Jam,
but they do such raunchy material that it makes
me blush. (both laugh) And I support their right
to do it, but sometimes you wonder if they don’t

have a larger vocabulary.

F: If they have a big picture ....

P: But they want to be successful, and so they
don’t always have the big picture. A few of them
do, but they're afraid their audience ... they make
a separation ... once again separation ... they make
a separation between them and the audience.
Whereas you and I don’t. You know, we respect
the audience, that they either get us or they don't.
F: That is what is wrong with Dennis Miller.

P: Dennis Miller? That’s a good point because he
likes to show off his references ... but he’s better
than a lot of others. He’s ok ... he could be better
but ...

F: But he is all over the place.

P: Yeah, I know, but so is pollution. (both laugh)
F: I mean in his act.

P: Oh yeah, yeah, because he'll pull out a reference
from a TV show from 1940, and then from a
musical group from 1990 ... yeah, but he means
well ... but then so did Hitler.

F: That is what is scary.

P: Yeah, I know, but what would we do if we
didn’t have something to be scared about.

F: People who mean well can do more harm.

P: Oh yeah. Wasn't that a Barbra Streisand song
... "People who mean well can do more harm ...”
(both laugh) Yeah, it’s true, it’s true, because
they're self-righteous about it and they think

that they're on a mission from god.

F: And people feel they are honest.

P: Yeah, well, that’s what I said before ... that in
the 25 lies a day that we tell, a lot of them are to
ourselves. Because if you want to deceive other
people, you have to deceive yourself first. That's a
pre-requisite.

F: How about Bill Maher?

P: Oh, Bill Maher. I like him. I was on his show,
Politically Incorrect. And he’s an ex-Catholic who
took acid. (Frank laughs) And so, he had Tim
Leary on ... he has people on that other people
don’t. He’s good. He’s nice and irreverent. He's
wrong on some positions, but, that’s only
because I disagree with him.

F: Yes, but he has a big picture.

P: Yeah, he does, he does. Do you watch his show
... do you get cable?

F: Yes.

P: Yeah, he has several writers but ... he’s excel-
lent. I’ve seen him do reports for Jay Leno from
events. And he’s very irreverent and very smart.
He doesn't talk down to the listeners. Yeah, he’s
good ... I forgot to mention him. He's good.

F: What would you like to do that you have not
done?

P: That I have not done? (both laugh) It’s a big
question. Ok ... write a novel. Fuck three girls at
once. And be young again. Oh, I've done that
already ... cancel that one. (Frank laughs) Have
unlimited power. (laughs)

F: For what?

P: Just for the hell of it. You mean, the power?

Oh, to make miracles. Somebody just asked
Ram Dass what he thinks is the most important
question of the twenty-first century. And he
thought, and he thought, and he thought for a
long while, then he said, “How can we get rid of
greed?” So if I had unlimited power, I would just
say, “Greed is out and compassion is in!” And
then I’d get some fudge.

(both laugh)

F: One time I took my students to a drug
conference and when | walked into the lobby
Leary ran up and hugged me.

P: Yeah, that was one of the things about the
60’s, that men could hug other men. Before that

it was considered homosexual, instead of just love.

F: And then Dass ...

P: Ram Dass? Oh well, he had an extra hug.

F: ... hugged me. And (laughs) then the widow of
Huxley... .

P: Huxley ... oh, Laura Huxley ... she’s still
around.

F: (laughs) ... hugged me.

P: It was a regular hug fest. A lot of hugging.

F: And during the intermission I was flapping
my arms ...

P: (laughs) Arms? (claps and laughs)

F: ... and Leary started flapping his.

(both laugh)

P: Him too! (laughs) Yeah, that’s good. He's a
good mirror.

F: Was I on drugs or what?

P: Maybe, maybe not. Only you know for sure.
F: How could I tell? Youre test did not work!

P: Well, it must have worked, if you thought you
were dreaming ... if you were flapping your arms.
(Frank laughs) At that point it doesn’t make any
difference. Reality was playing with you again.
(Frank laughs) But in order to flap his arms he
had to stop hugging you.

F: The two groupies did not know what was
going on. (laughs)

P: I know, it’s a secret language. When |
performed at an island off Canada where I did
the flapping my arms thing. And for two weeks
after that everybody on the island was flapping
their arms. It was good. I added that to the
language. But nonverbal language.

F: What should I ask? (laughs)

P: Let me think. Am I optimistic or pessimistic?
F: Ok. Or a realist.

P: Realist? Well, because I’m a realist, I’m
optimistic on Monday, Wednesday and Friday;
I'm pessimistic on Tuesday, Thursday and
Saturday, and Sunday I rest ... my case.

F: A realist is an idealist.

P: I know, but don’t tell anybody!

F: Skeptic ...

P: Yeah, I'm a professional skeptic. I wish I could
get paid to be a skeptic, cause that’s what I do.
(laughs)

F: Don’t you?

@)

P: What, get paid for being a skeptic? That’s true
I do, yeah. See how quickly my wish came true.
(laughs)

F: I do. (laughs)

P: Get paid for being a skeptic? Welcome to the
club. (laughs)

F: People think cynical is the same.

P: No. No. Cause a cynic is negative and a skeptic
searches for the truth. It’s a big difference.

F: Cynicism is a illness.

P: Right. And a cynic thinks there's no cure for
this. (both laugh) Yeah, it’s too bad but ... you
know, people get their identity from any number
of things, and some people get their identity
from being cynical. And they go to a party and
they're cynical. And then their personality
freezes that way. Our mothers were right.

F: Is that what happened in the 80's?

P: Is that what happened in the 80’s? Yeah, yeah,
people ... yeah ... it was a combination of greed
and cynicism and selfishness. It’s all the same.
Yeah, money became more important than
people. But a lot of those same people now are
getting more socially conscious. You know, some
of the baby boomers had babies themselves, and
when they saw hypodermic needles washing in
from the ocean, they thought they better do
something about it. So I think some of the greed
has changed to social consciousness. But that
may just be wishful thinking.

F: No.

P: No? It’s not wishful thinking?

F: Because the people who come to my
performances have changed.

P: Have changed? How have they changed?

F: Like in the 70’s they had dreams about
freedom. They wanted it. They may not have
thought it was possible ...

P: Yeah, well, but, you know, it always starts with
a dream.

F: In the 80’s (laughs) they had not dreams and
did not want it and why was I forcing them.
(laughs)

P: (laughs) I give up. Why?

F: In the 90’s they have not dreams, but when
they find it, they want it.

P: Well, that’s a hopeful sign. Atleast they think
it’s possible. Even if they stumble on it. When I
travel around I meet a lot of young people who
are the way we were in the 60's. Except they have
less innocence. We were innocent.

F: What do you think of zines?

P: Theyre like the underground press was in

the 60’s. Because now there are the alternative
papers but they're like a farm team for the main-
stream. So they want to get discovered. In the
60’s the underground press, like the zines now,
were a form of personal revolution as opposed to
the alternative papers, which are just a good
career move.

F: (laughs) In a way you are the root.

P: Oh, in a way, but I had my roots ... it keeps
going back ... to the cave people. (both laugh)
When they were writing on the cave walls, there
was somebody who was writing on a rock in the
field. And that was the first underground paper.
F: | always get the criticism J am old-fashioned.
P: Old-fashioned? You old-fashioned?

F: They say I do 60’s art. (laughs)

P: Well, so what? If you like it ... you have to do
what comes from your insides.

F: I say 1 am more old-fashioned. I do cave (art).
(both laugh)

P: That's real old-fashioned (claps and laughs).
That's right. Pre ... even before the caveman ...
when you were a fish. (both laugh) Yes, right. I
guess I'm old-fashioned too, then. Oh, our time
has gone.

F: When did art become fashion?

P: Oh, well, you know, Abbie Hoffman said
fashion is fascism. So, whenever people buy
something, if they spend money on it, they think
it must be art. Cause they don’t want to waste
their money. But, you know, art is ... true art is
self-expression and that’s very often out of
fashion. And when we get in fashion, we better
start worrying.

F: I have been doing what I am doing for 25
years.

P: How will you know when youre finished?
(both laugh)

F: Sometimes it is in fashion. Sometimes it is not.
P: Monday, Wednesday and Friday ... Tuesday,
Thursday and Saturday ... !

F: I do the same thing. (laughs)

P: You don’t change?

F: It evolves.

P: That's right.

F: But, they think I don’t change.

P: Well, fuck ‘em! That’s what I say. Fuck ‘em if
they can’t take a change.

F: And when | am in fashion, I have to work hard
to not get big.

P: That’s where we started.

(both laugh)

F: You always have inspired me.

P: Well, I'll tell you Frank, it’s a two-way street
cause you inspire me. So, let’s continue to inspire
each other.

F: How?

P: How? Because you work hard ... and you say
what you mean ... and you communicate. It’s
difficult to communicate and you do it. And
that’s the most important thing ... that’s what life
is about is communication. And I respect it a lot.
So, what else is there to do in life but communi-
cate. You know, and you do it with passion and
honesty. So that’s inspiring.

F: That is a great end.

P: Better than death. (both laugh) Very nice
interview. Excellent. I had a good time.

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elfelealelelelpaaealpel pel fel felfeljel fel

nnie sprinkle

invited us to

her Post Post
Porn Modernist one- 2
person show last satur- ae
day. i saw it years ago when
she did it at a n.y.c. strip theatre ...
and i wrote a review of it which was
published in Art Papers. in the review,
i pretended i was just someone who
had come to the show (in reality we
were staying at her place, watched her
rehearse the last ritual, and michael
[LaBash] painted her vibrator). i could
not do that now because she has put
me into the show for my “famous
tongue” ... and listed me in the program
credit as one of her performance teach-
ers ... which is very flattering because
she is the best performance artist i have
seen and her show is the best i have
been to. i said this in the old review.
but the ritual that is this show has
become much deeper, much more
human. annie very quickly shattered
the limitations of a stage show, very
quickly created an intimate community
from all the people in the space. it is
the community that really does the rit-
ual, using annie’s life as the pathway.
the ritual never stops, not even during
the “intermission” (annie stays on
stage for people to have their picture
taken with her bare breasts on their
heads ... at $10 a pop). the show’s last
section, a very magically powerful ritu-
al did not end, annie did not leave the
stage, until way after the last audience
member had left (i, as a performer,
watched each person
somehow decide it was
time to go).

annie’s Messages are

clear in the show ... sex
and the body are good ...
people do not have to be
victims ... and the more
happiness and pleasure
you have, the more hap-
piness and pleasure you
are creating in/for the
world.

eeaealelelfaifayeaiealpelfelfelfesyi

Ce a

exe mei melee!

Wtere(auatte

A REVIEW BY FRANK MOORE

SOOO RR REE HERE H EE EERE EE EEE HEHEHE EEE EEE EEE SHEE EEE EEE EE

unfortunately the new age goddess
haunts the show just below the surface,
producing a sublayer or a hidden mes-
sage of separation and isolation which
really runs in conflict with both annie’s
basic nature and the community that
her show calls forth. the new age god-
dess is basically a corruption of the
original goddess which is the yin prin-
ciple which is within all of us no matter
what our gender. the original ritual
journey or task was to reunite the yin
and yang principles into the original
creative life force, and to apply, along
this major journey, the yin principle for
the tribal welfare. one of the powerful
characteristic of the original goddess
has always been an unlimited inclusive-
ness. this is also true of annie personal-
ly, and it radiates from her show. but
both the original goddess and annie are
being misused, distorted, by the forces
of exclusion as an excuse and a justifi-
cation of elitism, separatism, discrimi-
nation, fear, and isolation. these forces

eee eel falelfeljelfealfeljelfelfele

of exclusion are the
main cause of today’s
world conflict.
; one of the problems
“= is “goddess” is being
personalized, then given
a gender. it is common today to
hear women saying “i am a/the goddess”.
it has the protection of being politically
correct. but if we change the words to
“| am a/the male god”, or “i am a/the
white god’, or “i am an/the american
god’, the fascistic dangers of this kind
of logic become more obvious. more-
over, the new age goddess has more to
do with mother mary than the original
goddess. it isolates women once again
high upon the pedestal.
annie’s story is one of self-discovery
... both her personal self and our collec-
tive self. her method is to isolate and
define aspects of herself, give each a
name and a personality, and then live
each to the hilt. so far, she has discov-
ered ellen, annie, and anya. in the past,
annie has described anya as the goddess,
which attracted the confusion. recently
she has started describing anya as a
sacred prostitute. although this term is
also misleading ... created by one cul-
ture projecting its morality into the
past onto another culture ... it is not
gender-driven ... after all, annie intro-
duced me to the audience as a sacred
prostitute. what is really meant by the
term is a cultural role of a magical
channel between this and other realities
by means of, among other techniques,
expanded sex.
annie is only in the
middle of her story.
before it is all over,
i think she will discover
many more aspects
within herself ... and
will then combine all
of the aspects together.
i'm looking forward to
that climax!

©1994 Frank Moore

Annie & Frank, NYC, 1987
Photo by Linda Mac

ele elfealpel elfeljel fel fel felfel el

e all know of the many resorts,

clubs, campsites that are sprout-

ing all over the world and where

Nudity is finally becoming accept-
ed on their premises. Most are located at
great distance from the main roads and
insist on ultra privacy as if conducting a
secret society. We all know we’re battling
with many currents of ideology regarding
the presentation of the human body and
we’re all well aware of the easily offended
tone of some of the more prudish kind.
And the soldiers of peace who take the
stand for pushing further the acceptance
of Nudity are mostly of the “single kind”.
Those spokesperson express themselves
through the many medium available or
sometimes do initiate their own. Many
publications keep coming out in the open,
adding their voices to those of whom
have already initiated the path. The more
supporters joining in, the better. For some
of them, beyond the publication lies a
whole organization. And what you may
find is that, along with the network, also
comes an outlet for where all can gather
to substantiate the efforts of the organiza-
tion presented through the publication.
This is the case with the worldwide orga-
nization/network of <<THE AFFILIATE>>
with its monthly publication and where
the significant outlet, in this regard, is
known as +THE GRAND BARN+.

Pioneered by Peter Riden, grandmaster of
the whole project, +THE GRAND BARN+
certainly serves well those who are basi-
cally concerned with meeting others of
like-minded open attitude. In its rural
environment, the location comes out as a
defiance to the usual criteria of any land-
ed club or resort for it does not insist as
much on the facilities it may provide but
rather on the quality of its attendance.
And it is located right by a major highway.
For many years a multitude of “single”
pioneers have been denied access under
the pretense of misbehaving conduct as
most locations have played the conserva-
tive less challenging approach of selective-
ly welcoming the family cell. On the other
side rarely anyone would take note that
most of achieved progress were accom-
plished by those dedicated “singles”, out
there, who once it was time for them
to come through the gate, they would
find themselves denied access. At +THE
GRAND BARN+ your conduct is the main
criteria, not your gender neither your sta-
tus. For once, both genders are getting
equal and single treatment. Nudity is
accepted as an expression of being at ease
with oneself and others without pretense
of any kind. The mental approach is on
high gear at +THE GRAND BARN+, but
any eventuality of developing intimate
interactions is not perceived as an impos-
sibility but encouraged with all the class
and reverence that should come with. For
once you have a rather imposing unit that

will not let itself be described as only a “Nudist/Naturist” club/resort, but rather a loca-
tion where the fact of Nudity is only the beginning of the educational process. People
have been for too long constricted in their interactions and dialogue with others. Too
many taboos have been perpetuated in a wrongful way detrimental to the most needed
dialogue between different factions who could otherwise all work in an ultimate collabo-
ration to face a common enemy: Prejudicial ignorance.

That’s the crowd you are to expect when coming at +THE GRAND BARN+ and the events
presented are geared at getting the most of collaboration with all attendees. With its
impressive stage on the upper floor and with a capacity crowd that can easily exceed a
thousand people, no doubts that the entertainment aspect can be well served. Music
shows, conferences, seminars, theatre, dance, banquets, indoor sports, award presenta-
tions, art gallery and many other events left to the imagination. The ground floor has
been preserved in its original form with stalls being rented on event days, where any
endeavors can be presented to the attending crowd.

+THE GRAND BARN+ promises to be an all year operation in the times to come. For those
who enjoy winter sports on a rather flat, but big land, this is your chance. If you really
seek the warmer days then you may contemplate a visit when weather permits. Usually
April 1st to November 1st is as much as we can stretch for the time being. The outside
facilities are at their initial phase although plenty of space can accommodate all future
expansions. The atmosphere is very homey, no pretense. The circular pool, site of a pre-
vious existing silo, is one attraction everyone does appreciate. And it is right next to the
warm enclosure featuring a choice of cement slab or fine grass, where most find them-
selves for relaxing time and chatting with friends or potential ones. Overnight stay is cer-
tainly possible for those equipped in consequence, from the small tent to the big motor
home/coach. The land is an agricultural area so there are no surprise to see cows grazing
by. The 2 majestic silos rising high above the 220’ ft long Barn are a landmark one can
hardly miss. On non-event days visitors are welcome on a daily basis to just come and
relax and enjoy the 150 acres of land and forest +THE GRAND BARN+ has to offer. The
40 acre forest presents stunning sight of gigantic Maple Trees and other fine species in a
magnificent Underwood accessible through many new open trails. At $15.00/day anyone
individual of either gender is welcomed on a fair equal basis to access our domain.
Children may enter free under proper supervision. Members of many organizations are

given a 10% discount on non-event days and those being direct Affiliates are welcome at
$10.00/day.

Some of the main events of note are being scheduled on the same dates year after year.
Talk about steadiness! They are “ART-AT-HEART”, May 27-31; “*CONCEPT* WEEK”, July
1-7; our 2 sessions of “NATURE’S WAY IN THE NUDE”, July 17-25 and Sept. 5-9; “CON-
VERGENCE”, August 5-15; “SPACE AND BEYOND”, August 22-29. Other events are also
added on a seasonal basis.

If you want to be part of this major, yet very homey worldwide network, you may con-
tact us at 777 Barb Rd, Vankleek Hill, Ontario, KOB 1RO Canada

Presented by Peter Riden fis

were sisters, you and I and
jp as each day began we'd meet
j wearing our hair heretically
lena (or short) to fit our whim or mood.
* sb One morning we, while dressed in our

ES. "+ silk print dresses, waded in the surf, wan-
“¢ $85 V+ tonly hooking nubile seaweed pods in
' ‘ae

*? our randy toes. We pulled at our clinging

‘+ lytt. skirts in the soft and brilliant light and
ae . laughed as we beamed our knowing

SS vie) . . glances one to the other. Then we dashed

yet Meic ll . away to create our own individual day’s
ee: adventure alone.
. “gs . You, met with your lean, fresh, white-
#. _ + skinned German boy, who you totally

=, bewitched with your wild animal tender-
24° ness that made him open to you in a
225°" moment of utter guilelessness which
turned at once to wonder.

As I lay on the white, white sheets, a
it " fragrant billowing breeze gently touched
ie oe ion %, My man and I with its humid lips. He
ae sett had downy, hairy legs and chest that tin-
pare: a ae *. gled my entire frame like cat whiskers or

ha " » foxes fur, like millions of tiny lighting
seas aye ”: flashes (which are the differentials between
or os &, ~ softness and being thunderstruck). Our
Ree x "1 sweat became the ground condition for

”” bringing forth the rain! The contact com-
hs att "= pleted circuitry from source to humans
ue , Which creates not only relief but is the
* ae io; literal mechanism for change. This was
Pacis ae : " magic.
, At the end of the day, you and I, we'd
meet again at one of our favorite small

* cafes, our table illumined by the light of

. 2 .
. oo?

< Tees ae
fe wos oe 08

a the cetyatal glasses raclaling the colors of
pete ‘2

— nee nyt yg! Cee hie

: ~ rage .

the flowers in their vase. Our entire sense
field was alive, the tactility of our silks,
the aroma of the coffee, the tinkling of the
cutlery, and surrounding voices, perhaps
a violin and the swelling inner surge of
the warming wine. We'd share our stories
each with the other, made twice as rich
by the telling. Once plus once made the
truth of three, evoking the thrill of risk
and daring found in this way of know-
ing. Our experience created a field that
expanded our beings twice over making a
repository of connectedness. It became
the deep strength, and power, that has
the quality of permanence and deity.

First you'd put on that naughty smile
which when joined by mine, soon became
conspiratorial play as we shared our tales
of love and power. It was, we suddenly
discovered, an experience of painful won-
der, the sharing of the carnal secrets meant
by society never for us to have. They had
been corrosively expunged from us and
kept forbidden. Then if we, as sisters, were
kept apart we could be constantly con-
fused, never certain, never able to share,
demand or demonstrate what we knew.
Our greatest and most sacred feat of all
was that you and I found we had it mere-
ly by experiencing it and then by telling
each other.

It was through this we discovered that
the secret of all mystery cults, all religions,
all paths was this thing we were not sup-
posed to know but were learning to have
and was why our smiles were at first so
naughty. It was this which was so forbid-
den that kept women puerile children
without their power, and weak. The

‘oe 698%"
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ce

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of4? is

Women

" e is
sce eee ee aoe hice
ste scsey PRIS AS ee a tee at ts" oe

know?
by Barbara Smith 1982-1994

secret is that through this very body
surges the same absolute wave of creative
energy which by itself can make a life, a
world, a first form, a self-sustained, self
perpetuating unit, organelle, paramecium,
or pomegranate, pear or person. And we
ourselves can direct it. We now know that
life was formed not only from the light
but as well from the dark unbidden seas
through heat and chemistry alone and
more: The first real and authentic human
was a lone black FEMALE in Africa! No
force, male or female, has got it all. The
secret is, we know it now and can be
tricked no more.

One day we met, I recall you with
those gorgeous earrings on: waterfalls of
shells, tiny trash cans and little angle irons
cascading down your ears. You'd dyed
your hair orange and wore it like a tro-
phy with banners round your brow. I sat
in my warrior's bonnet opposite you like
the mystical medicine chief and I saluted
you. We had to concede that you and |
were great. Anyone could tell.

This is why they hated us so much. It
was that our dress actually gave us away.
It meant we had the power (read prowess).
Having acquired shared experiences, we
were no longer innocent dupes of the
culture. We'd escaped to the joy of life
itself, enabled by the sharing of our sto-
ries to KNOW life’s fire. (Though as we
have said, it’s easier to see things and
events as they die, much harder to watch
them as they first become.) Still we
learned to do it.

. I, in my pelts and flowered skirts and
' glowing hair, with celery stalks acting like
Spanish combs in my hair, said, “Let’s
«: dance!” I began, with the slow tread of
'- the feet and a drawing together of my legs
* that they watched. (I know I can get them
:= to watch me.) And what do we teach with
this dance that we do? I sometimes with
pants and soft leather shoes or a dress or
skirt with fringe, my shawl, my rimless
glasses and my case. We teach them this:
That the key to the stopping of our
hearts was in our hands and the sounds
that we make! We found this rite I spoke
of with the breath to bring our hearts into
synch. As he and I lay together, our breath
would be coming in waves of joy, then in
a sudden moment, he’d put my hand fully
and deeply on his heart and his on mine
and they stopped! He opened his eyes to
mine and when we released our hands,
our hearts, (would you believe?), beat in
unison then as one. It was all very much
like gym, and takes care and coordination.
Then we took classes, you and I,
here and there as we found them, not
knowing that we were in fact on a path,
searching a certain thing out, which was
not what we had at first imagined. We
began to see we were learning indirectly.
You see, it’s the nature of an esoteric path.
You believe you are being taught one
thing and actually learning another.
Sometimes a dance class would give us
some clues. Not your ordinary dancing,
you know, it was one about tiny incre-
ments of energy, about breathing and
chanting for hours, and undulating the
spine. Here what happened was so pro-
found, we'd often go away viscerally sick,
but somehow suddenly without the
slightest intent, our body began having
a knowledge of its own, quite separate
from our intended will, a movement of
its own that was impossible not only for
us to resist, but especially for the men.
We began to acquire a look which if we
gazed into the man’s eyes, he could not
refuse. And in our coming together, there
was a power that is rarely experienced.
The whole body became a “sexual” organ-
ism and the entire night a joyous ecstasy.
By that time our inner images had
changed from those of excitation and lust
to those of body response and visions of
energies and we as the Goddess. The only

requirement seemed to be at we, you

andl, 1, had to be he ones who did the. 2 nee

choosing, deciding and directing. We
were the ones who had the power and
who were so compelling ... (although the
man may not have realized this at all).
What we were experiencing was the grad-
ual re-empowerment of female force and
godhead.

Meditating did it too, everyday by
giving smaller and smaller increments of
attention to the subtle details of experi-
ence, things slowly began to lose their
names, to lose any thought about what
they were, about anything at all but the
thrill of their occurrence. This made for
such exquisite experiencing that only the

limiting behavior of others made us have a:wz0<4
to control our generosity which would _ pe oy
want to spread this knowledge to all at ~* on 5
any time. aX pe ;

Each day we'd go our ways returning +:
once again with new treats for sharing. ‘
One day I'd try the art of wearing heavy- *
duty cowboy boots and jeans and a man’s
dark hat to tease him with my hips and
butt. He'd grab me by the waist and pull -
me to his lap, or I'd just walk over and sit Xs ] ae e.
there wearing the “odor of cunt” perfume, *
as he’d say. And afterwards, like his tro-
phy, he'd wear me on his hand stuffed
down the back of my tight pants.

And you would be off staring, with
night blue intensity into your man’s eyes,
catching his breath with your heart, as
you spoke of the strawberries you ate,
labor unions, cartography and Jung. And i %:
he'd write poems to you, because they - #30034,
rolled off his tongue to his pen on little -! ar
scraps of paper that he could not resist. 4543 %:
And you'd kiss like two beloveds. Inno = ss
time at all your words became few and
were the voices of the Gods. He gave you
gifts, shining magical things, because he
knew you loved them.

Again we'd return to share, the awe of
it, the amazing awe. “I can’t believe it,”
youd say, and neither could I.

The men in their grasping directed
ways always have wanted to move, and
take action, to get to the point. They
think that by so doing, they have the
power, and all they've found is how to
break it, to short circuit it into images,
and things, but never just to have it. This
we women began to know, it is we are

the teachers of the light.

a Oe
+ oes

A
0d ? Cie si
2 =e
eS Stee g
aes: «AL 6 ise é
tak se me .
$ RE Pe ae
ME Gt ag

Secret of Creation CONTINUED

Nigce (ttt IRE
x it iy :..* Sometimes you and I would meet for
“33x =a, coffee in our business jackets, tailored

“EE: € skirts and good shoes, big bracelets on

- .*.:" our wrists, bangles in our ears, cigarettes
wy in hands with painted nails and wed
“3. smile. “Never for a moment let them for-

Et 2
““. "get, never for a moment have they tamed

iho ae you.” The bangles tell them that. We're
227 8h) here to do a job, not work! Domestic
(eat sf. animals are in the service of their ‘lord’,
ih M3 os?

Hi “: “ heres broken to the heel (of self-hatred, certain

ve - 4 See ¥ “ 4 ,
ie of rejection because certain of their

:. ¢ dependency). We are, instead, in the ser-
. "# .¢ vice of life, giving light in the day and

Se
ates
BS

- 9 Oe ~ the deep encompassing dark womb of

- Ree set ray
; pale et iar Botte x
. . . . .*
7s Pha
t= bg pA rete weet ge ¢
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. . S Oe e2.eee ee
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- 3

AND there are prizes! The boy who put
his hand on your hip at work gets one.

The difference is we KNOW and we
SEE what they need and can heal them.
Our hands and bodies are so sensitive
that at every point of touch there is a
sense of deep inner body joy, pleasure
and delight. We can see inside our heads,
we Can...

Listen Lin, let’s go places far from
home, go camping at the river, with the
men at the roadside cafe, fishing creel at
their feet, woolen shirts and pipe, as we
drink the steaming coffee. While outside
the cold granite mountain locks its trian-
gular shadow in its forested place to hold
the deep cold lake at its base. The sky

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Southern France. Let’s trek the Himalayas ;,'
in Tibetan skirts. Let's sit in temples, :
homes and schools and let them come
to us for what we know to share.

As long as sisters need to write a liter-
ary gloss for the outside about knowledge =!
wrested free from unconsciousness and s!,
dread, which later merges into the pool.
of the light of all-knowing, we must go
on with this!

I hope you don’t mind my telling
people our story!

When do you want to meet?

Tomorrow? Want’a borrow my red skirt?
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TV BATHI

From the book Cherotic Magic
by Frank Moore:

In magic, masks are important. These masks
could be created out of material, or paint, or
tatoos, or facial expressions. Magical masks
are not meant to be a hiding, a covering up,
or a protection. Rather, they are meant to
reveal, to liberate, to call forth the deep per-
sonality which is usually hidden in normal
society. They are vulnerable masks.

In our work, nudity is such a vulnerable
mask. In itself, physical nudity does not
always mean you are vulnerable. But in the
context of this work, it takes you out of the
social, polite world. It physically changes you
slightly (I will get into these changes later).

It signifies the willingness to use every part of
yourself in the work ... holding nothing back
or in reserve, holding no part too private or
sacred not to be used in the work. This is on
all levels of your being, from your body to
your psyche.

From Sacred Faces (Masks)
by Chief Distant Eagle:

Today I will talk about sacred faces. These
are used in many tribal traditions, both in
Turtle Island and elsewhere in the world. Afri-
can masks, masks used in the Noh drama of
Japan, Apache masks, masks in New Guinea,
and so on, are all for a sacred purpose. I will
talk about the sacred face tradition I under-
stand best, and that is the one of the
Hodenasaunee (Iroquois Confederacy).

The masks used in the dominant culture
are used to hide identity. Robbers often wear
masks to hide their identities. At costume par-
ties people wear masks to tantalize others
with their anonymity. Anciently, in Europe
too, masks served a sacred purpose, and a last
vestige of this remains in the Hallowe’en cus-
toms now relegated to children only.

Among traditional, tribal peoples, on the
other hand, masks are not to hide identity but

to evoke sacred identity. To explain this, let
me first tell you something else.

Tribal people believe that we create our own
reality. The nature of our spirit determines
the nature of the world around us. If we are
happy within, we will be happy without. If we
are unhappy within, our environment will be
full of unhappiness. If we are happy within,
we will be happy even if our environment is
austere or adverse. If we are unhappy within,
no amount of pleasant things in our environ-
ment will make us happy.

In everything you do as you walk the Red
Road, if you walk in harmony with your world,
at peace with yourself, you will have happi-
ness within, and therefore happiness without.
Smudging and praying, keeping spiritually
clean in the Stone People’s Lodge, listening
to your dreams, walking in balance with all
living things; all such things help you to walk
the Red Road well. |

Sacred faces are like windows: they help
us to see the sacredness within ourselves and
within the world around us. A person will do
things wearing a mask that he or she will
never do as an “ordinary person”. This is
because the mask represents a sacred being
which comes to the person, and enables the
person to do very sacred and powerful things.
These things are not of our \washte\ ordinary
world, but \wakan\: dangerous and holy
things that lead to healing.

These sacred faces should not be called by
either of the common English terms for them,
neither “masks” nor “false faces”. They are
not masks to hide identity, and these faces are
anything but false. The Seneca word \gagosa\
means “face”, referring to the sacred face of
the primaeval Younger Twin (a male) who
was vanquished by the Older Iwin (a female)
and made to promise to help humanity. Those
cured by the rituals of the “False Face Society”
become members of it. The rituals are tradi-
tionally performed at the New Year and Green
Corn Festivals.

The faces are carefully carved directly from
living basswood trees, without killing the trees.
They are painted black, red, or black and red.
They have large eyes, often of pressedin metal,
with pupilholes. The mouth and nose are
exaggerated and distorted, often with large
snaggly teeth and/or lolling tongue. A long
hank of hair always hangs down from the
face. The particular form of the face comes
from a dream the person has had.

The sacred faces are considered alive. When
not in use, they are hung facing the wall or
wrapped in red cloth and put away in a safe
place. They are occasionally “fed” by smear-
ing a thick gruel of parched cornmeal with
maple sugar on their lips. They are also often

Woman & Child

wiped with sunflower seed oil to help “keep
their skin soft”. Old ones, thus, will have a
bright shine from many such applications.
Each one has a name and personality; it is
always addressed as “Grandfather”. They are
often talked and/or sung to.

Sacred faces, therefore, are another way to
listen to the Grandfathers, and to learn from
them. They help us to cleanse our inner spir-
its, and to bring healing to ourselves and oth-
ers. Even if you yourself do not carry a sacred
face, you can still learn from them that it is
important to recognize the sacred powers, the

»
»
“=.

Guardian

\wakan\, within yourself and not be afraid to
let it come out when appropriate for healing
and cleansing.

That is what I have to say about sacred
faces. Hau, mitaquye oyasin!

From a conversation on the GENIE
computer network

Magical Mask-Roles
Frank Moore
May 1, 1994

there is a misunderstanding of the nature
of the magical maskroles such as goddess,
chief, wounded healer, shaman, heyoka, etc.
people think these roles have something to
do with the individual’s personal identity.
what they are really are projected aspects
of the self that is in all of us and is all of us.
we are granted access to particular magical
maskroles to be played in the rituals and/or
as tribal functions ... but trouble comes in
when we think the maskrole is our individual
personality. if i thought i was the wounded
healer, the shaman, the heyoka ... all of which
i have access to...all of the magic would be
drained from the role ... and the role would
be merely a part of my ego. this is what you
see happening in those regional chiefs.

(Jim Audlin)
Chief Distant Eagle’s Reply
May 1, 1994

Boy, are you right!!! Exactly. (About masks.)
Most Washichu want to take the sacred mask
and “own” it, to control it, to make it theirs.
The only way you can ever “have” that mask
is to let go of yourself. And that’s the LAST
thing Washichu will ever do!

Painted
Photographs by
Peter C. Turner

MANDORU

CES LEO

The “F-4” Model, Gibson
Mandolin, with curly cues
and Ivory keys.

Mama’s Mandolin.

Waiting in her living room
for the evening performance
the day she died.

She was 82.

Carlos, who played in her
orchestra

wrote

in memorium,

“The Maestro has gone to Heaven
Taking with her the mandolin”

He was Catholic and paid no
attention

to the Unitarian Minister announcing
proudly,

“Pearl Ava Beagle was an Atheist.”

an oxymoron
I believe.

to call the musician an atheist!

music tells more what you will be than
what you won't be

There’s more of a ring in believing

and she believed

in the world as full of beauty,
seeking, learning, loving
believing in justice,
believing in goodness
believing in joy
believing in the wonder

of her own self
believing in her beauty,
loving her self,

loving the earth and all
creatures,

loving the flower,
loving her music, loving the mandolin

It’s true

she had no use

for organized religion
But, it’s not enough to say
But, its not enough to say
she was “non-religious”
not a believer in God,
Atheist.

-

(no, there is no black and white
“scientific” answer

One professor said it well
“Some people have a child-like
faith in science.”)

The scientists admit
with ever wondrous new discov’ry
they'll still know less than nothing
of the human brain.

Wise philosophers
neither deny

nor affirm

the meaning of life,
and neither deny

nor affirm

some interconnection,
(electrical impulse)
light?

a consciousness?

a floating non-existence
they can neither deny
nor affirm

some interconnection
some oneness of time and space
past events if remembered

are in the present! some say.
and | say, if

the beginning of this earth

is out there somewhere,

and man

devises ways to place it

in time (which was created

by man in the first place)

if it’s there, it’s

there,

and isn’t that peculiar?

When you think about it,

it seems to prove,

it is (as the Sufis said)

all happening at the same time,
one day we may find

that travelling through so-called time
with a space ship

isn’t necessary, (it might be just
around the corner, or not!

earth as it began!)

But it's important
for Atheists to deny
God

the universe as designer of itself
is all the miracle

the atheist needs

I respect that

but there’s more to say
about Pearl

This is how I felt,

when the Unitarian Minister said
Pearl Beagle was an Atheist!

as the STRONGEST most proud
statement of his talk.

But what an “anti” word, what at the coy, flirting

a “non” word, what a “denial” every ephemeral
word Will-o-the-Wisp
True, she was “AGAINST” and “ANTI” answer
injustice. story
fable
But joyously PRO so many high, fairy tale
exhilarating forces in life, ultimate truth
not the least of these, or illusion
her music (some say)
a baby
Surely her music soared to the heavens could understand
to be heard by Angels if there are Angels, better
in Heaven, if there is a Heaven too simple
(metaphors, what else is there but for a grown-up
layered metaphors; I, as a metaphor, for man or woman
my parents act of love!) song,
perhaps just a song,
And Heaven a metaphor for for the jazz man to hear
human desire, and the scientist to
and Angels, a dissect
metaphor for the good in note by note,
everyman. measure by measure
The words musician/spiritual I thought of this

when the Minister said,
Pearl Beagle was an Atheist.

are indeed synonymous:
of the spirit
with the spirit,

in the spirit til And again, later when

by the spirit I re-read her letters, one
through the spirit written a decade before,
is it tangible, saying in an off-hand way

measurable, ; DEAR Dorothy May,

can you touch it, smell it, _ om “The Mandolin is yours, if you want
see it, the old thing.”

you can hear it,

with you ears?

how do they hear, that’s
mysterious,

with your body,

with what part

of your brain,

The Mandolin! For me!

The sacred Mandolin!

Around which everything revolved
it was

the laughter well,

the Irish spell

“T feel the spirit” an From Mama. Tome. The sacred mandolin!
“T feel the music”

is to hear, Mama was so joyously PRO so many high

“T hear you!” exhilarating things in life,

the jazz man said, not the least of these

and he heard much more music

than a flatted 9th,
or the dissonance
or the pulsating

on her death, mercifully quick,
a member of her orchestra wrote a poem:

percussion, the “The Maestro has gone to heaven
whoosh and thunder taking with her the Mandolin.”

of percussion,

he heard much more I thought of that beautiful line
than the draw of a majestic smiling and wanting to say,

bow no, the mandolin is not with Pearl.
across the strings For in her own hand she wrote,
of the bass viol,

“IT hear you,” “Dear Dorothy May,

he may have heard and I’m leaving you my mandolin.
the story if you want the old thing.”

of the universe
and he won’t deny
or affirm that, — dorothy jesse beagle
like the scientist |

who was enabled to peer

\ A Ye oe SSSR

Too Bad Good Th

| Good thing farts aren't hurricanes.
Good thing cocks don’t spurt turds.
Too bad toe-jam isn't blueberry jam.
Too bad our ear-wax isn’t honey.
Too bad our shit isn't gold.
Good thing we don't shit out our nose.
Good thing our turds aren't alive and follow us
BRIE like dogs watching us eat begging for scraps.
‘(o: Good thing our turds don't shit turds which follow them
wanting to play with them like younger loys older boys. /c
Good thing farts don't believe in life after death. . -.
ey’ Too bad we don’t grow younger after 40 23
so when we die at 80 we're 10 years old. - SL.
<" Too bad we dont have 8 arms like octopi - :
so we could jack off 8 boys at once. PT a
Too bad men can't taste their boyhood come anymore.
Good thing we dont shit out our mouths (or do we?).
+ Good thing we don't have cocks where our ears are fe
ears where our eyes are eyes where our balls are ()<

balls where our knees are - Se’ oe a

knees where our nipples are. | @ *-
oses where our assholes are. R 5) ~ rob eS
i ao ngton ea

| they put an old
man in

has orld thought bist
| 7 asked tere 2S tonoring hi

hel him if he wanted food ©
= sw cuthorities. "he never a
Be foo ens it ust lay on “a
ac I ond stere into space all :

dl d kot's roommate, thome iy

rag of a heart attack Siwoge
all ips Ne ago. "| had to
aoe erent. end bills, ‘Aig

i told him, ‘one more

month and i'm th
NO good ass an on lazy ~2

Mie ts <>
a appeared in attitude problen” ie Cl
LY

Good thing we don’t have our n
Good thing we dont shit out our ears (or do we?) . 9 big h
Good thing mosquitoes aren't big as blimps. 2 - o 0 head press

, : . 7 %

t the size of mosquitoes. g Fk (SY 39 ! &
Too bad girls cant place their vaginas in treetrunks o KEE :
and hide and watch cute boys discover them and fuck them. 6
Too bad boys can't place their cocks and balls and assholes °
on moss-covered nurse-logs and hide and watch
7 cute girls discover them and suck and fingerfuck them.

Too bad Buddha and Christ said nothing about cunnilingus.

Too bad Mohammed said nothing about anilingus. ~~
Good thing volcanoes don't erupt maggots ~ | Ra

{
Too bad sharks aren

4

Good thing clouds don't erupt maggots. bis Pad
Good thing waterfalls don't gush maggots. ef
Good thing we don't like pus on our popcorn. ap
Good thing we don't like blood from human sacrifice
on our popcorn.

Too bad our brains aren't interchangeable. /
Too bad our cocks aren't interchangeable. pis
Too bad our cunts aren't interchangeable.

Too bad money doesn't grow on trees (or does it?).
Too bad it’s not legal to counterfeit money.
rkers can't get jobs

Too bad unemployed wo
counterfeiting money. IC
Good thing our tears arent turds. ad
Good thing our intestines are on the inside. in a
Ae

Good thing corpses enrich the soil.
Good thing youths exist whose vision of love is so great

beside it all the bombs in the world are an atom. oe
Good thing an atlas of our galaxy =
that devotes one page per solar system ee he
would run 10 million volumes 10,000 pages each

and to flip through it a page per second ¢
would take 10,000 years.

You need to know.

Nf

have held on to your black heart
in fact

I sleep with it beneath my pillow
it fits

in my hand when

no one else will

I went to Hawaii
I drowned

I came back

I never saw

blue like that

I never saw you
50 I ask

I ask for you

I cry in the shower

I hold my scar not all healed
I bleed and think

you knew all along

but could not

Save me.

bhe Sxank Garrd sixties-Nineiies Blues haga

Yeah it can’t happen here with it’s plastic hippies
and faxed I.D. toadstool brains wound tight but it
can’t happen here away from the nasty messy city ghetto
with your cute picket fences and pink flamingoes
nigger jockey painted white on your manicured lawns
three different cereals yeah it can’t happen here not
the ‘D’ word not drugs in your schools not Mary with her
yellow curls spread eagle on the pavement it can’t happen
here not in ‘OUR’ America (pass the pancake syrup, Jimmy)
Paul wants to hold your daughter’s hand Mick wants to
spend the night together but it can’t happen here it
can’t happen here Yeah there’s Isd on Mickey Mouse and
a bad comedown and a halfway house in the middle of a Taco
Bell and a Burger King they’re selling junk and everything but
IT CAN’T happen here cause I’ve been checking it out and I’m
here to tell you that it can’t happen here.
Now the guns your horoscope don’t look back in
every crack) alley) tongues and jammies everyones a nanny
with a USMC tatoo
and the faked faxed America is panting ranting Billy Graham
and Bishop Sheen screaming; It can’t happen here, it can’t
happen here cause I’ve been checking it out and I’m here to
tell you that It can’t happen here
(not in Our America) ot

Elliott

To MM Y Ray by Molly Holzschlag

I know

you are dead or walking

with some mixed up Shaman
picking mushrooms in Sonora
each time it hurts I remember
your fingers reaching inside
and stopping the pain.

But I could not stop the Viet Cong

from smashing your face in my living room
or crucifying you or burying you

not dead

The October sun is still too strong
are you in hell or somewhere?

I reach for you with psychic wings
but this time you do not come.

I need to tell you.

I sat watching a movie

the miracle of life they called it
with cameras the size of a pinhead
looking with wide eyes at the
pink feather flowers

of her fallopian tubes

So I hemorrhaged in class because

I did not feel so beautiful

I have been hacked up

laser, scalpel

did my spirit slip out with the blood?

I don’t seem to feel

so much myself. I take men to fill
the puzzle but discard them when
they do not fit.

I have smelled my own flesh rotting
I am terrified

I am so lonely

you were my ray

_ my angel gone, most intimate lover

of this flesh though

you never entered me

I saw you walking
but it was not you

Kiss and Tell by Molly Holzschlag

Dionysis don’t you dare
tease my Venus
wine-drenched tongues
and false blue eyes
touch the leather

of this man

Or, knocking on the Happy,

New Year

the sultry Lord of my Heat

rubs his fingers milking

the softer flesh

of this right arm and touching
the tip of his

fingers I am

made drunk by the rivers washing

I pulsate with grief.

The Alaskan remains quiet with his Indian angles.
His lips should be kissed do I dare?

He turns the pages of

a book softly. Reading words? Or curves?

Curve to angle

Geometry of lovers and a crushed velvet gown
Bosom hides Wicca’s tongue,

I love her, I love him.

Can I crawl inside

the crevass and watch from there?

Protected?

Mother lode - in those hills of scent sweet with the Lily.

The maniac Saint Steven
writes love poems and pushes them deep
into my box.

I am consumed in smoke and confused desire
Venus embrace me do not let me die

Here in the chilled cell of my sometimes
friends |

I look through the bars to the alley

wanting to forget

California’s eyes crying

the red steel hair of my old brother flipping cards
the woman who has

too many

holes to fill they are

in her heart

and someone else’s hard-on is laughing.

Attila goes to fence with the foppish
off to the Bay with rappier and tongue
he grew a moustache and beard it hides
his handsome face

he must obscure lies like I do

nestled in our Hungarian, Gypsy blood

Dionysis don’t you dare

make him sing to me this way
with this other language

with the greed of the hungry shaft
with the ring of promise
tightening the exotic canal where I
know a secret

I know a secret

Kiss and tell.

Molly Holzschlag is a poet, songwriter and medical journalist living

in Tucson, Arizona. Also known as Molly Who... she has an album

of original music available through Kept in the Dark Records, and

is working on another recording project with her current partner,

Patty Sundberg, in a duo known as Courage Sisters.

For more information write:
. Serre aN gee Molly Who...

P.O. Box 42225

Tucson, Arizona

85733-42225

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MODERN WESTERN EVERYDAY LIFE, THEREBY
EXPLOSIVELY EXPANDING SUCH CONCEPTS
AS SEX, HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS. THE CLEAR,
DOWN-TO-EARTH TEXT IS AMPLIFIED BY THE
NON-LINEAR TRANCE ILLUSTRATIONS BY
LABASH.

published 1990

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art of a shaman

IN art of a shaman, ORIGINALLY A

LECTURE PRESENTED AT N.Y.U., FRANK
MOORE EXPLORES PERFORMANCE AND ART
IN GENERAL TERMS OF THEM BEING A
MAGICAL WAY TO EFFECT CHANGE IN THE
WORLD. HE LOOKS AT PERFORMANCE AS AN
ART OF MELTING ACTION, RITUALISTIC,
SHAMANISTIC DOINGS/PLAYINGS. BY USING
HIS CAREER AND LIFE AS A “BASELINE”,
MOORE EXPLAINS THE DYNAMIC PLAYING

WITHIN THE CONTEXT OF REALITY SHAPING.

HE BRINGS IN CONCEPTS FROM MODERN
PHYSICS, MYTHOLOGY, AND PSYCHOLOGY.
COVER BY LABASH.

published 199]

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PERSONAL, ANARCHICAL TECHNOLOGIES
SUCH AS XEROGRAPHY, VCR, FAXS, ETC., ARE
EXAMINED IN cultural subversion BY FRANK
MOORE AS THE MEANS BY WHICH ORDINARY
PEOPLE CAN TAKE BACK THE CONTROL OF
COMMUNICATIONS AND CREATIVITY FROM
THE CENTRAL POWER COMBINE.

published 1992

cultural subversion

art of ving &

A GUIDE TO DOWN-TO-EARTH SPIRITUALITY
AS CHANNELLED BY FRANK MOORE.
published 1987

frank out of isolation
moore A SURREAL EROTIC EXAMINATION OF AN INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP
OF NEED. STARRING FRANK MOORE AND LINDA SIBIO.

copyrighted 1989 JO5 minutes

NOW ALSO AVAILABLE
out of isolation PROSE POEM

the outrageous beauty revue

fairy tales can come true THIS RAW VIDEO DOCUMENTS THE TACKY, MUSICAL, OVER-THE-
THIS IS A FILM ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS AND DISABILITY STARRING EDGE COMEDY REVUE THAT FRANK CREATED, DIRECTED AND PER-
FRANK MOORE, WHO HAS BEEN DISABLED SINCE BIRTH WITH CERE- FORMED IN. THE SHOW RAN ON A WEEKLY BASIS FOR THREE AND
BRAL PALSY. IT IS A HUMOROUS, YET REALISTIC LOOK AT HOW TO ONE HALF YEARS AT THE MABUHAY GARDENS IN SAN FRANCISCO
ESTABLISH RELATIONSHIPS BY CHANGING NEGATIVE SELF IMAGE. IN ADDITION TO A NUMBER OF OTHER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA AND
copyrighted 1981 35 minutes NEVADA PERFORMANCES. FRANK PERFORMED ALONG WITH THE

THIRTY PEOPLE WHO MADE UP HIS THEATRE GROUP, “the theatre of
erotic play

human melting.”
THIS VIDEO EXPLORES WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE OF ALL TYPES ne

copyrighted 1980 approx. 30 minutes
AND AGES ARE GIVEN A CHANCE TO RETURN TO BEING A KID AGAIN.

A SIMPLE GAME OF DRESS-UP BECOMES A POWERFUL METAPHOR chero collage

FOR DROPPING TABOOS, RELEASING CREATIVE EMOTION, AND FOR ATTEMPTS TO CAPTURE THE TRANCE STATE OF LIVE, SHAMANISTIC
DRAMATIC CHANGE. AS A RESULT, AN INNOCENT EROTICISM IS PERFORMANCE COMBINING FOOTAGE OF SEVERAL OF chero
FOUND... AS WELL AS GETTING INTIMATE WITH 60 HUMANS. company’s RITUALS INTO A REALITY-WARPING VIDEO.

copyrighted 1983 84 minutes copyrighted 1992 27 minutes

outrageous dream the outrageous horror show

A SURREAL, VISUAL POEM OF FOUND IMAGES. A LIVE CABARET SHOW THAT BREAKS THROUGH THE LIMITING
copyrighted 1984 41 minutes TABOOS, THROUGH MESSY NIGHTMARES, INTO THE DREAMS OF

ALL POSSIBILITIES.
copyrighted 1992 32 minutes

the nude cave
AN EROTIC, SURREALISTIC VIDEO DREAM THAT COMBINES NON-
LINEAR IMAGES AND FRANK’S ORIGINAL MUSIC SCORE.

sieges ATA FT lees To order call or write:

inter-relations, p.o.box 11445
berkeley, ca 94712
(510) 526 7858

Fiawio taPSo

body music
EXPLORING THE HUMAN BODY AS MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.

90 minutes

inter-rhythms
PRIMAL MUSIC CREATED FOR FRANK MOORE’S RITUAL PERFORMANCES.

90 minutes

nude cave soundtrack
THE NONLINEAR ELECTRONIC MUSIC COMPOSED AND PERFORMED BY FRANK
MOORE FOR THE FEATURE LENGTH VIDEO. 110 minutes

rock of passion

THE SOUNDTRACK OF the outrageous horror show, FRANK THE ROCKSTAR
SINGS HIS HEART OUT, LITERALLY COVERING THE GREAT HITS OF ROCK,
COUNTRY, AND HEAVY METAL ... INCLUDING SUCH SMASHES AS i am woman,
i got you babe, AND hand of doom ...

trance rap

WRITTEN BY FRANK MOORE AND SUNG/CHANTED BY MICHAEL LABASH
WITH A BACKGROUND OF BODY MUSIC, trance rap IS AN AUDIO INTRODUCTION
TO CHEROTIC MAGIC COVERING SUCH SUBJECTS AS eroplay, the plot of
fragmentation AND magic art. ALSO INCLUDED IS THE POEM wrapping/rocking.

30 minutes

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REVIEWS

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary #5
May 1995

(TC(r)#5) “is wild!”
Arlene Raven, journalist

(TC(r)#5) “looks super. Thanks for the plugs. It’s a lot of work, your
mag. Hope it gives you lots in return’
Annie Sprinkle, artist

“Frank Moore means so much to so many people: he’s a writer, an artist,
a performance artist, a lecturer, a producer, a director, an intellectual,
an inspiration - and more. But Frank would prefer his zine not be
classified primarily as a sex ‘zine: ‘We do have a lot of sex in us, but

we really are an anarchist/ arts/ avant garde/ experimental/ art/ beat/
cartoons/ community/ counter-culture/ alternatives/ culture/ dada/
surrealism/ erotica/ essays/ ethics/ feminism/ fiction/ gay/ humanism/
humor/ interview/ lesbianism/ libertarian/ literature(general)/ magic/
nonfiction/ philosophy/ photography/ poetry/ prose/ psychology/satire/
sex/ short stories/ spiritual zine ... or a life on the edge zine ... for short:
Frank always has a statement to make. The Cherotic (r) Evolutionary

is Frank's platform for speaking out. In this issue, Frank presents an
exquisite rant In Defense of Bad Art, that is, the right of Berkeley
performance artists, known as the X-plicit Players, to be fully protected
under the Bill of Rights as a theatrical group instead of being arrested
for public nudity. In ‘Conversation Between Two Muckrakers, Frank
conducts a no-holds barred interview with Paul Krassner, founder

of The Realist. (Krassner: “... In the 60's the underground press, like

the zines now, were a form of personal revolution as opposed to the
alternative papers, which are just a good career move ...) And lots more’
EIDOS Magazine, Volume 8, Number 3

“If a zine could be a performance art piece, Cherotic is it. What a wild,
crazy smorgasbord of mind-blowing sensory assault. And it’s all tied
together through the ‘shamanistic, erotic, electrified art of Frank Moore.
In the future, when we look back at the 90s, wondering where the freaky
culture came from, Cherotic and Moore will be a couple of its heros.’
Sticky Green, The Sinner’s Bible

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Before we start our review of TCR#5, let us mention that TCR #’s 1 through 4 are still available.
They are genuine collectors’ items .... We anxiously waited for TCR issue #5 and we were very
glad when it ultimately landed in our mailbox. The front cover gives you a good idea of what
The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary is all about: "WARNING-Enter at your own risk! This piece may be
threatening to your everyday reality. This piece may cause questioning of the common morality.
These symptoms may appear days after this piece without warning ... even if during the piece,
you may feel as if nothing is happening ... or you may even enjoy it. BUT above symptoms may
still appear, leading to restlessness, and even to radical change. The people at Inter-Relations are
working for ‘radical’ change in society. The way we (we being the editor of OPEN FORUM) see
it is that if an individual would experiment and explore going beyond the artificial boundaries,
‘over the edge’ as they say at TCR, imposed on us by an unwell society, society would see positive
radical change. The change would happen because one individual who has broken his emotional
and psychological chains would act as a conduit to others to do the same - similar to a chain-
reaction. This idea of inter-connectedness runs throughout the teachings of Frank Moore and
also appears in the artwork of LaBash (whose splendid work appears in all the TCRs). In issue
#5 of TCR there is lots of stuff to entertain while simultaneously making you think - reading
TCR is definitely a learning experience! Some of the things you'll find are: an editorial by Frank;
an interview with Paul Krassner which covers everything from sex to politics; some letters

from readers, one, which brought tears to our eyes, is from a young woman from Moscow who
is yearning to create alternate realities for herself; a review by Frank of Annie Sprinkles one-
person show ‘Post Post Porn Modernist, Frank digs deep and although positive about Annie's
performance, points out, °... one of the powerful characteristics of the original goddess has
always been an unlimited inclusiveness. This is also true of Annie personally, and it radiates
from her show. But both the original goddess and Annie are being misused, distorted, by the
forces of exclusion as an excuse and a justification of elitism, separatism, discrimination, fear,
and isolation. These forces of exclusion are the main cause of today’s world conflict ..; and a
presentation of our friend Peter Riden of The Grand Barn, a meeting place in Canada for open-
minded and tolerant individuals, who are ‘at ease with nudity. Also appearing are a myriad of
poems, essays and photos. Some are erotic, some are not, and others are social commentary.

To conclude we want to comment on something that Frank mentions in his editorial. He says,

‘I need to thank the zine community for all the kind reviews of TCR over the years. I only

wish they would not classify TCR as a sex zine. We do have a lot of sex in us. We will never

shy away from that. But we really are an anarchist/ arts/ avant garde/ experimental/ art/ beat/
cartoons/ community/ counter-culture/ alternatives/ culture/ dada/ surrealism/ erotica/ essays/
ethics/ feminism/ fiction/ gay/ humanism/ humor/ interview/ lesbianism/ libertarian/ literature
(general)/ magic/ nonfiction/ philosophy/ photography/ poetry/ prose/ psychology/ satire/ sex/
short stories/ spiritual zine ... or a life on the edge zine ... for short: What he says is true also of
many of the other so-called ‘sex’ zines out there including OPEN FORUM. Yes, many have as
their main theme sex and sensual pleasure, but most also address a variety of other topics such as
censorship, human rights, the environment, decriminalization of drugs, and freedom in general.
A lot of ‘underground zines are working for, as we articulate in our new advert, empowerment of
the individual, tolerance and enlightenment’

Peter Riden, The Affiliate (Canada)

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Frank Moore is an interesting guy. For the last twenty years,

he has been doing controversial performance art that is extremely
political and sexual in nature. Frank claims that he is able to get away
with more because he is handicapped. Frank is wheelchair-bound
and communicates by pointing at symbols on a board. He is probably
sick to death of articles that explain all this, but it is an important
part of the Frank Moore persona. In addition to his performance art,
Frank is the soul behind the beautifully-crafted The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary. There are many intricate little drawings tucked into
every corner and surrounding every photo. It must have taken hours
to do each page .... This publication does a nice job of representing
Moores ideas and work. He isn't interested in lewd, degrading art.
Instead, he is interested in creating a heightened awareness of the
human body, the self, and society.”

Mike Hovancsek, You Could Do Worse #5, Autumn 1995

“This mag has a very strong sixties vibe in such a way that
this moth-eaten decade could really use. It calls up the days
when people actually used their heads and emotions
instead of their wallets.”

Bleeding Velvet Octopus #4

“Every Frank Moore publication I’ve seen has a cover by LaBash whose
drawings are Bezerkeley trippy, trance, erotic and seem to jump off

the coffee table into your face. EEK! ... On the back is Lorena Bobbit
Buddha, worth the five bucks the magazine will cost you.”

P-FORM #40

“OUR TITS OF THE MONTH uh... ARTIST OF THE MONTH
Michael LaBash is from Berkeley, CA and is one of the most
chaotic and beautifully perverted artists in the underground.

He works with Frank Moore and they produce one of the
coolest and free-spirited mags around called The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary. Hopefully he will draw the attention of some
over religious and over sheltered right wingers with his cover
and get GARY arrested?

The Flashing Astonisher #6, June 1996

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

Frank Moore (Editor) The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary Zine ! Outrageous,
Wild, Bizarre, and gorgeous ... are adjectives I can use to describe
Frank's Erotic, Hot, Sexy, Juicy (I'm gettin’ a little sweaty now myself)
and Adults Only Zine!!!! I drew erotic artwork in grand fashion and Mr.
Moore published my artistry in his 1995 yearly edition! I just marvel and
love Frank's talents as both theatre artist & writer of many sophisticated
books. Annie Sprinkle, who was on H.B.O., for her striptease expertise
and her photographing nude women for her Calendar ... was the
featured celeb in the issue I was published in. Frank has accomplished
more as an artist and was born with cerebral palsy, than I ever could do!
Frank's a talented and dapper gent! Greetings & regards to Mr. Moore.
Thanks!!!!

T.R. Miller, T.R’s Zine issue #5

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TheCherotic (r)Evolutionary — i
is a zine about “the edge” for 16
and by people on the edge. iw
TC(r) is published by Inter-
Relations. The publishers/editor
are Frank Moore and Linda Mac, is
the art editor is Michael LaBash, 21
and the circulation manager is 22
AlexiMalenky $$$ ~@=-—_—_—iii, a=.
The price for this issue is 24
$5.00 per copy. We don’t sell 25
subscriptions, fo avoid tying 26
ourselves down to a rigid publi- 27
28
cation schedule or magazine
size. We want to remain free to 29°
publish frequently or larger 30.
issues at longer intervals and
adjust the price accordingly. ai”
All material is copyrighted relly estecel td 32
1996 in the names of the individual authors/artists. Material ge
by Moore and LaBash may be reprinted as is without 33.
advance permission - but please inquire before reprinting 34
material by the other contributors. Of course, we wouldlike Sey 2.
copies of all reprints from the magazine, and we'd also like to >
see copies of all reviews or comments on TC(r).
We heartily encourage letters of comment from readers
and will answer as many as we can. Please fell us if you don’t
want us to print material from your letter - otherwise we will 36
assume itsOK eee BN
Please address all correspondence and orders for 37
magazines fo:
Frank Moore, P.O. Box 11445, Berkeley CA 94712
e-mail: fmoore@lanminds.com 38

WorldWideWeb: http://users.lanminds.com/~ fmoore

OXY ey

TCir)’s AD POLICY ree a] TO SUBMIT AN AD
Recently we have received several inquiries Send us a copy of your ad and aS.AS. If
about how to buy ads in The Cherotic we accept it, we send you the rate for your
(r)Evolutionary. Although we are not actively ad ... and if we need anything from you such
seeking such ads, we are not precluding as halftones, we will tell you. If we don't
them either. However, we will judge whether accept it, we will send your ad back.

or not to accept an ad.

TC(r) is a xeroxed, black and white zine that
is published irregularly ... if we are lucky,
twice a year. So it is not the place for fancy
color ads or for ads with time deadlines. On
the other hand, TC(r) magically finds its way
around the world.

Sliding scale: $10-$50 per quarter of a
standard typing page. The scale slides
according to our whim.

HOW WE ACCEPT AN AD

Our whim also is a big factor in accepting an
ad. Another factor is the other contents of
the particular issue. And there may be other
factors which are unknown even to us.

Tete ee eee eee eee ee eee eee ee eee eee ee eee eee ee eee eee Cee eee ee Cee eee ee eee Cee CeCe Ere Cee eee re Pee eee ee eee eee eee ee eee eee eee ee eee eee)

eRe CCPC Pee Pee e Pe eeee. ~ Serer rere reer reer eree reece ee eee ee ee eee ee eee eee ee eee eee eee eee eee eee)

3.c by K.Atchley
Paintings by Horence Gray

TECeTere fe Lerrerrerrererecr rer rere r err rere errr re ererr er errr er errr rrr rere ere reer err ere eee eee eee eee eee eee ee eee ee ee eee ee eee

Lee’s Unleaded Blues/ Chicago, South Side by Ana Christy
Haight St by Ana Christy

COO e ee eee Ree ee eee eee ee Ree eee Hee ee EEE EEE HEHEHE EEE EE EHH EE EER EE THEE EH EEE EH EEE EH EEE HORE EEE EE SEH EEE HE SHHE HEHEHE HEHEHE HEHEHE EEE EES

TTT errr rr erererrr rr erererrrees § eee er err er rarer er reer eee ere ee eee eee eee ee eee eee eee eee eee

TiTTTiVrrrrTrrerrr rere rrr errr errr rrr rere rrr re creer errr rr errr re rere error ere eee eee eee ere er eree - (Te Ce eee eee ee

Taking Out The Brain by Janet Kuypers

The Mule by David Whitacre

It's Not Good to Repress Bodily Functions by Robert W. Howington
with Artwork by LaBash

Elogio & Repulsa de Graham Bell by Adrian Valdes Montalvan and
Enrique del Risco (Enrisco)
Fuck Music by Ericka Slayer

co
Because we are not actively looking for paid =
ads, we do not give free copies to would-be =
advertisers. But we encourage them to buy a ro
back issue or two. However, we do give you

a free copy of the issue in which your ad “iY
appears.

Frank Moore
November 12, 1993

RLY

(GC

~~ Saturday, July 13,1996

7

Well, guess I am still a cultural outlaw. Last
night, the cops busted THE ARTISTS” CAFE ......
one of those truly underground tiny places
which have always threatened the regular
world ... busted it for having me and my band
jamming in the early Friday evening. It's flat-
tering to think my voice is a subversive
weapon ... just wished the cops would have
shown up in time to take me to jail, instead of
showing up ten minutes after I had left and
stopping the poor folk singer who played
after us!

Anyway ... you have in your hands the chub-
by issue! We had fo add more pages to cram
all the stuff in .. but we didn't have the

heart to raise the price. That reminds me ... a
special thanks to the performance artist
Jenny Strauss for loaning us her scanner.
That saved us big bucks both for this issue
and our new WEB OF ALL POSSIBILITIES

website at: http://users.lanminds.com/~fmoore.

While we are at it ... I have anew e-mail
address: fmoore@lanminds.com. If you want
to talk to me personally ... The Web is the
place. In fact, a lot of the folks in this issue
are on the web... and they are hot linked at
W.A.P. ... and tons of art and other shit ... in
other words... visit our web site!

I had to use the web to get visual art for
this issue. Each week there is a pile of great
pieces of writing in our p.o. box. But we
rarely get art, cartoons (except from T. R.
Miller Cartoonist who we can't Keep up
withl), or photographs. Yep, I'm telling you
visual artists to get your asses in gear! We
did get the mind-blowing group of Cuban
artists when the Cuban artist collective
BANCO DE IDEAS Z sent us a copy of their
artist book and of their calendar ... both
hand-printed on home made paper (Now we
are going to great lengths to get their
comp copies to them in spite the U.S.'s boy-
cott of Cuba).

: 2, BX, KPC, 0

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Oh sure, I could have rested on the “in-hous« ]

art of LaBash and the twisted talents of
John Seabury and the other amazing artists
we already had. But I wanted morel So first
we called our good friend Les Barany ... the
gothic figure in the Giger chain He got us
HR Giger the famous tattoo-artist Spider
Webb, and Flo Fox (the fox in the mirror on
the next page ... more about her later)

But I wanted more! So I went surfing! And I
found Tony Ryan in Tasmania and Eric
Boutilier-Brown in Canada... all by surfing
the web.

We live in an age of whining people who
think they are owed something, who think
they have the right to not be offended, to
have reality be padded to their satisfaction
before they will even think of playing the
game of life (an actress auditioning for my
play actually said she would be in it only if I
get a woman director!). We receive letters
from prisoners (and also from would-be
advertisers and would-be contributors)
saying: “I'm in prison. Send me a free copy of
your zine.” ... as if being in prison (or being a
woman, a victim, a crip or whatever) entitles
him. I never give such a person a comp...

although we give a shit load of comps away.

The reason I put Al Cunningham's personal
ad on my page is he always has come from
being a risking artist rather than from being
a jailbird.

Flo Fox is definitely not a whiner. She was on
the NYC streets at 14, both parents dead. A
very lusty woman. Married and knocked up
at 18. Divorced at 26. But that was when
the fun started. She got a camera. Didn't
have to close her one eye because if was
blind ... perfect for a photographer Became
a famous photo-journalist, focusing on the
street scene. Then in 76, she became legally
blind. No problem. She just had to wait 2
years before they invented the auto-focus
camera... and she was back in business and
art She started teaching the blind photog-
raphy. When her MS put her in a wheelchair

2
&

KY a" 1p Ko mney \ e ‘\C-S en. S
B) OE FOILS GR AO

DISEASE

| have a disease...
which is eating away at my life
it has ate a hole in my heart
and it’s been feeding on my brain
day by day, night by night
little pieces of me falls away
leaving only the shell of the man
| once was.

| have a disease...
It weakens my body
my spirit, my soul,
It denies me peace of mind
and creates depression,
suppression, and frustration.

| have a disease...
It sucks at my breath
blinds my sight

and tortures my existence.

| have a disease...
But there is a cure
and only the most sensitive,
caring, and sincere person
can administer it.

The disease is called:
“Loneliness”

The cure is:
“Friendship”

Who will give me the cure ? ? ?

Al Cunningham
PO BOX E-22600 (2E80)
SAN QUENTIN PRISON

San Quentin, CA 94974

and the city didn’t build curb cuts, she start-

ed building them herself, carrying sacks of =A
cement on her chair! Guys, if yougo toher /
apartment, she'll have you whip your cock = &
out for her “dicthology” series. Girls, she :
has a pussy series too! =?
Flo is too busy playing lustfully in and with e
life to withdraw into the self-absorption of [FF
a victim. She comes to the table to play..to y
play every hand, to match and up every bet ... .
not for power (the power game is for ¢
chumps) but for life, freedom, and the pur- fe
suit of happiness! (fg
A foxy hero! > eyes es
RIXSE e
Faw PND BS)

— S 4 v
ae OMG

PHOTOGRAPHS
OR el te) .4

http://www.tiac.net/users/fotoflo/naughty.html

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wtsee. sy testis % : oa otitis

TWETINCUE OF YoU ALuIMY

B Y CH ARLE S CH AIM WA X

As I approached my building I saw Frank the super fixing the wires of the lamp above the bells. He wore
his usual janitorial blues with matching cap. The guy was a hard worker. Being the super was his second job.
Plumbing was his main source of income. As I passed him I mumbled, “Do you like being a plumber?”

“Huh?” he asked, but didn’t turn his head from the work he was doing.

“Be careful with the live wires,” I muttered.

This time he turned to me, smiled, and said, “I been doing stuff like this since I was fourteen.”

“OD.

“Plus I got a funny kinda body, ain’t affected by electricity.”

“Oh.” |

“I could lick these wires and nothin’ happen to me, but a normal guy get fried like a egg.”

The thought came to my mind “Like an egg” but I didn’t say it, just watched it. Instead I said, “I seen
this program the other day about, of all things, India and The Guiness Book of World Records. It seems
that they, the people of that country, got the most records in that book, but they was complaining that they
should have more records but the Guiness’ guys don’t want to accept some of their amazing feats like two
handed typing for fifty consecutive hours.”

“Uh, what exactly, cause I ain’t that well read, but, what’s two handed typing? Don’t everybody use two
hands?”

“Well, they do and they don’t. Well they do. I said it wrong. Sorry. Two handed typing on two different
typewriters. So like the left hand types one thing, say a letter, while the right hand types a cooking recipe,
say. And this goes on goes on for fifty hours cause they got these two huge rolls of paper each hung over a
typewriter which feeds it forever like...”

“I don’t thing that could be done, Steve.”

“T seen it on TV.”

“You only got one brain...”

“But two hands.”

“So, are you sayin’ one part of the brain tells the right hand what to type and another part of the brain
tells the left hand what to type, and this could happen at the same time? C’mon. It don’t sound plausible to

“Well, you didn’t lemme get to the punchline which is The Guiness Book of World Records didn't allow it
in cause not enough people do it...”

“Ho, that would seem to make it even more of a record.”

“I think that too, and if what you say you can do you actually can do, you could get in, I mean the
lickin’ live wires.”

“You mean that?”

“Yeah. All you gotta do is write ‘em a letter and they send some guy to check it out.”

“And, uh, what’s the remuneration on this?”

“Nothin’..well, fame, I guess.”

“I got two kids in Catholic school. What am I gonna do with fame?”

“You might get on Dave Letterman.”

“Who?”

“Dave Letterman, the late night guy.”

“Tm sleeping by ten...”

“Al right, forget about Dave. You could be on Geraldo.”

“He ain’t got nothin’ but nuts on that show like a hundred times I seen already a mother who screwed
her daughter’s boyfriend, or a daughter who screwed her mother’s boyfriend, and then there’s the guy who
screwed his best friend’s girlfriend, and a girl who screwed her sister’s boyfriend, and the same thing with
the gays like I screwed my boyfriend’s brother. I could go on forever with these wacko permutations and
combinations. Don’t nobody in this country work no more? Where do they get all this vigor for screwing?
I’m lucky if I got the strength for one poke a month. That reminds me I need a little pep up.” Then he took
off the red cap, followed by the black cap, and put the tips of the two wires together. Sparks flew when they
touched. Then he stuck out his tongue, wiggled it from side to side, and placed both wires there. A quick
burst of steam puffed into the air. Then he held up both ends of the wires and touched them together
again, and again the sparks flew. Then he put the red cap on, and the black cap on.”

) oO ASE

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I babbled, “That was amazing. You could be famous.”

“I don’t wannabe famous. That’s bullshit, can’t even buy a bagel without somebody lookin’ up your ass.”

“You got some petroleum jelly on your tongue, right? Cause I read it don’t conduct electricity.” He
laughed when I said that and stuck out his tongue. I looked at it but really didn’t get close enough for an
absolute determination. Nevertheless, I mumbled, “Looks clean to me.”

Just then Conrad Hull opened the door to the vestibule. He smiled at us, took a step, and then fell to
the floor with a gaping frozen mouth. His face flipped into a horrid blue, even his tongue. Frank the super
instantaneously unscrewed the red cap and black cap and plunged the wires into his tongue. The burst of
steam appeared once more but lasted only a moment, as the wires stayed stuck in his tongue. Then his eyes
bulged. I bellowed, “STOP.” I don’t think he was capable of hearing anything at that moment as the wires
began to glow. Conrad Hull lay quite still through all this excitement. I was certain he was dead. But Frank
obviously did not share my gloomy thought because he leaped upon Conrad and inserted his tongue into
the gaping frozen mouth. At once the legs of the dead man wiggled to life and the eyes fluttered open.

“Oh, God, I just seen a miracle,” I gasped.

Frank looked at me and exclaimed, “Tell Netta to call an ambulance.”

I quickly took out my key, opened the door, and raced to his apartment across from the elevator.
“OPEN UP. OPEN UP,” I yelled. His wife, Netta, swung the door wide and I immediately told her the situa-
tion. She ran to the phone and dialed 911. Then she followed me to the vestibule. Frank had the wires to |
his tongue again. I noticed every follicle of hair on his head shop away from his scalp this time, and he also
appeared to have an erection because his crotch bulged. Then Frank lunged his tongue once more into the
stretched out man’s mouth. A moment later Conrad Hull stood. Unbelievably, he smiled.

The sirens became louder and louder until I saw the flashing red lights. Then the wail ceased and two
Emergency Medical Service guys raced intothe vestibule.

I babbled, “He brought him back to life with his tongue. I seen it...”

“WHERE’S THE VICTIM?” one EMS guy yelled.

“T was dead but now | live,” Conrad mumbled.

“What the fuck is going on? the EMS guy babbled. “Anyone need medical attention here? Eh? What??”

“No. I feel great,” Conrad proclaimed.

The two EMS guys turned and left. A moment later they flipped on the siren and roared away.

Netta blurted out, “Let’s go.”

“That time of month,” Frank laughed.

Conrad Hull sobbed, “You saved my life.”

“You're gonna be famous for sure, Frank,” I asserted. “I’m calling the Enquirer, Hard Copy, every damn
TV station in the city. There’s big money in this. Forget about the Guiness bullshit...”

“No...no...Steve,” Frank murmured.

“Why? What I just seen could put your kids through Catholic school till they're thirty-five.”

“No...no...Steve, he murmured again.

“Why? You got a gift. The world gotta know. You're like a Holy Man, Frank.”

“It don’t work without a jump-start.”

“What?”

“Down there,” he sighed, “cause I was born with one testicle, like my grandpa, so the pump don’t got _
the proper pressure.” Suddenly he chuckled, “My dad got lucky and came out with two.” Then he paused
and whispered, “So, see, this is gonna be our little secret, right?”

“Of course,” Conrad Hull declared.

For some stupid reason I blurted out, “So you gotta use a kinda sex toy to get it up — but why only once
a month?”

Frank didn’t have a chance to answer because Netta grabbed his crotch and led him away to the nuptial
bed. Conrad Hull exclaimed “Some questions you don’t ask” and walked out of the vestibule into the street.

I stepped to the dangling live wires. Frank had forgotten to replace the caps. That was understandable,
given all the excitement. I stared at them for a moment and then touched the tips together. Sparks flew in
all directions. I flicked my thumb across both wires and felt the jolt. | immediately understood why he was
allowed a poke only once a month. I mean, a woman is quite delicate down there.

Then I carefully placed the red cap on the red wire, and the black cap on the black wire. His secret was
safe with me. Fame would not be his fate. The toiling multitudes of India could have that dream all to
themselves.

[rE

oe

Paintings

(oil and clay on canvas)

BY
Florence

~—

~ARIER.... 1S LOSING

THE BAKING ZONTEST C 3
“~F

AT THE COUNTY FAIR.
~~ eT

Notes to 3.c

3.c iS one of a series of
texts that accompany
movements of the compo-
sition for ndise-guitar:
flowers. Although many of
my previous compositions
have incorporated the
performance of spoken or
sung verses, the text
betow is presented in the
program notes for live
performance (or as “liner
notes” for a CD). An
excerpt of the the text is
read aloud into an etec-
tronic system that allows
the vocal performance to
be played through the
noise guitar [perfor-
mances are to begin in
1996].1 have considered
having the entire set of
verses to 3.c translated
into Japanese. An excerpt
would then be performed
either live or taped along
with the performance of
the guitar score. | am
interested in distributing
the text widely enough
that the performance of
even a section of the
text—even performed in a
language foreign to a
large percentage of the
expected audience—might
evoke the whole narra-
tive.
-K.A.
katchewell.com

_ pinched her nipples as | fucked her harder and came.

ONG 6 4 La sy, eee

3.C

copyright 1995 K.Atchley

[The scene opens in a dormitory room of a small,
U.S. college during the spring of 1976.]

thirty

Kusumi held Meguro’s hands as | fucked her. We
stopped and tied her arms to the bed frame. He

twenty-nine

We untied Meguro, turned her face down so that her
torso hung over the foot of the bed, tied her hands
behind her back and legs spread wide. Kusumi lifted
her by the shoulders and placed her mouth over his
penis. While he moved Meguro’s shoulders up and
down, | watched sweat form on the small of her back
and thighs. Blood and come matted her sparse, black
pubic hairs.

twenty-eight

Blood formed a thick line between the lips of her
swollen vulva and smeared her inner thighs. | rubbed
my thumb between her lips and smeared a line of
blood to her ass, up her spine, to the base of her neck.
Pausing, | watched the back of her head move smoothly
up and down. | wet my fingertips with blood and drew
a circle midway up her back. | divided the circle into
thirds using two curved lines. The drawing resembled a
Sketch of a baseball. | dipped my fingertips and, as
practiced, inscribed a circle and seven concentric rays
on my forehead. | skimmed my little finger in blood, -
leaned over and smudged a thick horizontal line on
Kusumi’s throat followed by six smaller lines leading
down Kusumi’s chest. We had completely surrendered to
the ritual.

twenty-seven

When | saw Kusumi bare his teeth, | called him to pull
out. He squeezed the base of his cock, quickly with-
drew, and climbed onto the bed as | moved aside. Still
holding back, he entered Meguro then released himself.

twenty-six

| untied Meguro and Kusumi rubbed her wrists and
ankles. We helped steady her on hands and knees. As |
fucked her from behind, Kusumi stood before her, held
the hair from her face as she licked the come from his
dick and pubic hair. Amphetamines and excitement kept
US going.

twenty-five

By the time | was ready to come, Kusumi was slowly
working the head of his penis in and out of Meguro’s
mouth. As prescribed by ritual she growled deeply.
Arching my back | pushed deeper and came again.
Kusumi pulled out and | moved aside. Meguro rolled
onto her back and hugged Kusumi as he finished inside.

twenty-four

Meguro lay between Kusumi and me. She rested her
head on my chest, an arm across Kusumi’s stomach, and
a leg across his legs. After a few moments | signaled
that it was time to continue.

twenty-three

Kusumi took a large laboratory-beaker from the dress-
er top and placed it on the floor. Carefully getting up
from bed, Meguro covered her crotch with her right
hand and squatted low over the vessel. She parted her
lips. Kusumi and | knelt and encouraged her as men-
strual blood and come flowed into the beaker. She
bounced slightly up and down releasing more fluid.

twenty-two

After she finished, Kusumi helped her stand. | picked up
a glass rod and some small packets from my desktop. |
emptied the packets into the beaker. Kusumi added a
prepared liquid solution and with the rod | stirred the
contents into a pink, viscous potion. Meguro brought a
half-quart jar of water infused with blue cohosh and
stowly poured as | continued to stir. Kusumi pulled a
folded piece of paper from a cloth bag and emptied
finely crushed dark leaves into the mixture.

twenty-one

| handed the beaker to Meguro. She took the first drink
then passed it to Kusumi who stood on her right. Kusumi
drank and handed it to me. At the first sip | tasted
blood. My face immediately flushed red and my ears
tingled. As the potion made one more pass, warmth
spread from my throat down to my stomach and
through my veins to my hands and feet. | felt as if |
were translucent and glowing. After Meguro and Kusumi
finished their portions, | brought the beaker to my lips,
tipped it back, closed my eyes, and finished the last.

twenty

Though my eyes remained Closed, | felt as if | had
opened them onto an intensely bright point of expand-
ing light. The light dimmed proportionally as it grew
and enveloped me.

nineteen

From within an orb of light | saw the golden, excited
faces of Meguro and Kusumi positioned equidistantly
from me. Our bodies had vanished and we spun clock-

Painting By
Flarence Gray

wise. | leaned right to kiss Meguro. The sphere distort-
ed as her face retreated from mine. No matter how
hard | twisted or thrust, the distance separating us
remained constant. Once | understood the orb’s physics
we all laughed.

eighteen

Suddenly Meguro’s face vanished leaving an egg-
Shaped form. She quickly reappeared. The three of us
smiled, nodded and simultaneously performed a flip

that resulted in us looking out from the surface of the
revolving sphere. We saw our phuysical-selves — stand-
ing in the room, eyes closed, breathing shallowly, glis-
tening with perspiration.

seventeen

Thick, green vines grew from the ceiling light and
sprouted large leaves and orange-red blooms. From a
hanging lamp in a corner, thin vines spread rapidly
around the room, thickened slightly and blossomed into
honeysuckle that filled the air with sweet fragrance.

sixteen

In perfect unison we flipped back inside the ball and
laughed. Amber light shimmered across our faces. The
shimmering became more pronounced until the tight
distinctly flickered off and on.

fifteen

| exited and re-entered consciousness synchronously
with the putsing light. Aware only of darkness’ outer-
most edges, | could not tell how long | was unconscious
before light shone again.

fourteen

pulsing increased
and the depth of
darkness decreased.

We flipped again and |
watched Meguro and .
| embrace. | lay ona
deep bed of vines

-
The frequency of « y
0

and fragrant blossoms. Meguro straddled me. She
reached down, placed my erect penis inside her and
gently rocked back and forth. | sat up a little, put my
arms around her, pulled her down to my chest. We
fucked in the revolving sphere’s flashing, golden light.

thirteen

Kusumi squatted behind Meguro. He placed his left
hand on her shoulder. | felt pressure as his dick stid up
her anus. Meguro and | held still until he was fully
inside. Kusumi bent forward and kissed the back of her
neck. Slowly he and | moved alternately in and out.

twelve

From every electrical socket delicate, reddish-purple
runners snaked across other vines toward the room’s
center. ‘Fine, light-green tendrils forced the cables from
the backs of the receiver and turntable. They bloomed
into bright purple flowers. Orange and yellow pollen
clouds blew about the room.

eleven

Kusumi quickened his pace then his body stiffened.
Meguro moved fast back and forth over my chest. |
asked her to open her eyes so that we could see each
other come.

fen

| felt a vine spiral around the shaft of my penis. Meguro
held me tighter and moaned loudly. She and Kusumi
shuddered as another vine wiggled up her anus and
around his cock. A knot of vines entered my ass and
moved through my intestines. My friends’ expressions
made it clear that they were having the same experi-
ence. | felt a sense of expanding calm as the vines
grew inside me.

nine

A shoot appeared from the outside corner of Kusumi’s
right eye and sprouted a soft pink bud. Another grew
from the inside corner of his left eye, bifurcated, and
each of those tips formed a bud. Lifting Meguro away

from me, | saw that her nostrils’ supported beautiful,

lavender flowers. | innaled deeply and felt that | was

following a detailed olfactory-map with borders and

map to the present.

eight

Vines entered my esophagus by way of my stomach.
Rather than gagging, | found the sensation soothing
and pleasurable. They grew up the back of my throat,
out my mouth, intertwined with shoots growing from
Meguro’s and Kasumi’s lips. Soon they grew out the cor-
ners of my eyes, nostrils and ears.

_ ated bright rainbows and the crosses emitted columns

areas demarcated by nuances of fragrance. | traced the

seven

One pearl-backed bud opened to reveal a yellow petal
that bore a red, crescent moon. The adjacent petals
opened; on the right a black numeral “6” floated above
a smalt blue diamond and on the left petal a white
hand—palm open and facing—appeared above a white
triangle. A fourth petal was inscribed with a golden
lightening-bolt. The fifth petal bore the chemical formu-
la CUH100 below the phrase, spirit: dissolves,
leaves;...self: forms, arrives....ln the center of the sixth
petal was a lustrous, silver circte.

SIX
Tiny, spinning black-swastikas and whirling white-cross-
es rose from a patch of red flowers. The swastikas radi-

of white light. A swarm of black insects flew into their
midst, absorbed them, glowed warm amber light and
disappeared into the distance.

five
The heads of flowers followed the sun as it passed
overhead. Shifting sunlight and shadows created words

and symbols that vanished into nodding blossoms,
buds, leaves in wind.

four

In the afternoon gentle breezes blew across the field.
Tall grasses arched and straightened, sunflowers
swayed, vine-leaves stirred close to the earth.

three

In the middle of the field a small glen extended about
three-quarters of a mile to the west then crooked north
a little before it ended. Rainwater formed a small pond
at the eastern end. Dragonflies dipped ripples in water,
flew invisibly to tips of grass, circled, disappeared, and
returned on iridescent, blue-green-purple wings.

[wo

Six or seven yellow-orange butterflies flew up from the
glen and—in tight loops and delicate arcs—surveyed
the field. They settled on a cluster of daffodils and fed
on nectar.

one

Along the farm’s easternmost edge, blossoming honey-
suckle covered the gray wood fence that separated the
field from the adjoining farm.

A kura with Cream

20x24 inch silver gelatin print, selenium toned
Crabtree, January 1994

This is real, the look in her eyes is real because by profession
Kura is a stripper and loves her job. She is genuinely proud
of her body and enjoys the admiration it attracts. You can
place whatever interpretation you like on the ice cream but
notwithstanding the sexual connotations, to me it still sug-
gests the naughty little girl deliberately making a mess and
asking ‘what are you going to do about it?’

Tony.Ryan@its.utas.edu.au
http://pigweb.com/tonyr.htm
http: / /info.utas.edu.au/docs/tonyr.htm
http: //www.alchemy.com.au/Tony.Ryan/

A Hannah in the Studio 1

20x24 inch silver gelatin print, selenium toned
Crabtree, 1995

In the past my few attempts at nudes for their own sake (in
the Edward Weston tradition) have not been successful.
There has to be a theme even if it is only the apparent char-
acter of the sitter. This series with Hannah all seem to have
worked well and I am finding it very hard to choose between
them. She is so beautiful it is almost frightening and her
dance training has given her a grace and awareness of her
body in space that make her perfect for this kind of work.
There is something wonderfully “in-your-face” about her
poses too.

<q Sarah and baby Anne (2)

20x24 inch silver gelatin print, selenium toned
Crabtree, 1994

wW

MNONESS

MANIFESTO
=1496
NoBODY 16 BAe ANYMORE. THE pT N 4
EVERBODY iS CerTiFiep SANE, (nore: in 1938, Stephan Vincent
Benet wrote a Poem titled--
ALL OUR POETRY IS Tne OaME. cha Pe “ = Reference’.
K e. : » \ wrote thé followin
Atl QUR OLIT\CS IS THe SAM Qvem, sugge Ste d by Benet: poem, gk)

ALL OuR ART I? The SAME. _
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[Ook AT ALL Tr SANG PEOFLE. and it 15 their problem now.
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BY OUT. THe PEAD ARE T.RED OF

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SLOGANS and SRT. DECLARE YOURSELF ,

AMERICA! GO MAP AND SAVE Tug oD!
B GEORGE KaufFMan

Nickname:
CB Handle:

Current address:

Neck shade: Lightred( ) Mediumred( ) Darkred( )

Number of teeth exposed in full grin: Upper: Lower:
Make of pickup: Size of tires:

Does it have doors? Yes( ) No() Sometimes( ) Can’t remember ( )
How high is the first step into your pickup? 3 feet( ) 6feet( ) More( )
Number of empty beer cans on floor of pickup:

Number of coon dogs in bed of pickup:

Truck equipped with:

( )Rust ( )GunRack ( )Campertop ( )Hi-jack shocks

( )Winch ( )Rollbar ( ) Running boards

( )8 Track ( )Spittoon ( )Fuzzbuster ( ) Load of compost

( )Mudtires ( )Mudflaps ( ) 4wheel drive

( )Airhorn ( )Dogbox ( ) Confederate flag

Bumper stickers:

( )l Love Grits ( )Elvis ( ) Eat Mo’ Possum

( ) Jesse Helms for President ( ) Coon Hunter

( ) Honk If You Love Jesus

Length of right leg: Left leg:
How many cars do you have up on blocks in your front yard?
How many appliances do you keep on your front lawn?
Working appliances: Non-working appliances;
Do you own any shoes (not boots)? Yes( ) WNo( )

If so, how many?

Do you bathe? ( )Weekly ( )Monthly { )Bi-yearly ( ) With Soap
Are you married to either of the following? ( )Sister ( ) Cousin

Does your wife weigh more than your pickup? ( ) Yes ( )No

When was your last Elvis sighting?
Can you sign your name and spell it right every time? ( ) Yes ( )No
Did you read and understand this? ( )Yes ( )No

Date Signature

Send to:
Senator Jesse Helms, 403 Dirksen Senate Office Building, Washington, DC 20510-3301 ig, aF F
Senator D.M. “Launch” Faircloth, 716 Hart Senate Office Building, Washington, DC 20510 iz?"

Published & Created by Dave or Shadl, Beast Quarterly, 204 Furman Rd #16, Boone, NC 28607
thanks to Jamie Goodman

kos ne ie Ae my as

Seats, . ee, ee bbe e Ses Ae oe
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oS ’ MMe hie OCELEE ot Sai Nek soe BY is
RR oR eg if” "hag, ee, ore Lh apes f
Oe tg ait, “ “ eee “fo te <= ie ey om salt Seas
eS PETES
Bee scion

nee

] et out your scissors for
ie that standard map of
: the possible! There have
3 been some bold scout-
Se

ing parties for a world

Of liberated desire the
last few years, and some of
the boldest have just put a
book out on their discoveries.
More Out Than In: Notes on Sex,
art, and Community, edited by Rachel Kaplan
and Keith Hennessy; a collection of writings
about the 848 community space, a do-it-your-
self mutti-use space available to all manner
of experimenters, crossing the boundaries of
art, oppositional politics, and sexual libera-
tion. Since it opened in San Francisco in 1992,
the 848 has probably hosted a wider range
and volume of sex-positive events than any
other public space in the world. I’d like this
response to generate interest in the book,
offer some critical commentary, and explore
some of the introspections it has prompted
in me.

| happened to be in SF when there was an
open forum on the book, and, truth be told, it
left me pretty frustrated. | had no idea it had
gotten so late, and the conversation ended,
way too limited to discussions of S/M. It was-
n’t until three others and | were leaving that
we fully realized how we didn’t even touch on
SO many things that would’ve been fruitful to
talk about. (So | started to boil over and think
about writing this....) The editors asked for
submissions of “critical writings,” and they
got them. A good portion of the twenty-four
contributors are more than less dissatisfied
with some aspect of the sex events or their
perceived disproportion, and criticism of the
S/M scene is a recurring theme. Oddly, the
main proponents of S/M-critical views did not
Show up at the forum, but there were some
eloquent advocates of S/M. The main thing
that stands out for me is the dampening
effect of the resulting dissension taking up so
much of the forum - and the book.

The book is remarkable for its introspec-
tiveness and invitation to criticism. But the
more | think about it, the more irritated | get
with much of that criticism. Phrases like: “too
much sex,” and advocating for “sacrifice and
service” are used amid discussions of the
“relative exchange weight” of “issues of sex-
val identity to issues of inequality...” | just
read Murry Bookchin’s new book, Lifestyle

MV 19) II

ou

— INA

SOUT 12 Fab

an Unbridgeable Chasm, which
is targely an attack on

armed, Fifth Estate, and
Haquim Bey for focusing on the
liberation of desire and the
expansion of autonomy for
authentic lives of adventure
and rebellion - as opposed to
programmatic political organization building
— and much of the criticism of “sex and plea-
sure activism” seems akin to this morality-
based “social” anarchist perspective. To
speak of “pleasure activism” and “class war
activism” as distinct and competing Is curious
and foreign to me. Maybe that’s because |
haven’t been too involved in the queer sex
party milieu there or taken part in planned
“spiritual and/or educational” sex events
that apparently are distinctly “safe spaces”
protected and separated from the rest of
life. But might not the problem therefore lie
less in there being “too much pleasure
activism,” as in the limited nature of the
events? “Safe spaces” can also keep the rest
of the world safe from your spaces.

On the other hand, much of the criticism
seems sincerely aimed at a further evolution
of the dialogue on sex and liberation, which
could be very positive. The book includes an
excerpt from a 1966 interview with Henry
Miller about the shallowness of the “sexual
revolution” at that time. “It was always more
the total liberation of one’s self that | was
concerned with” as he saw it; “Sexual free-
dom and the effort toward that snould only
be one aspect of a movement toward much
larger freedom, to think and act freely and
creatively, in every domain!” One more effort,
sex-pots.... We don’t just want better sex
lives, we want our whole lives to be sex tives!

My tendency is to foment an iInsurgence of
erotic, playful activity that knows no bound-
aries. To pursue the “emergence and rapid
spread of creatures that will be living
embodiments of the surreal, those who will
stop the world and open up new possibilities
for meeting our needs and relating to one
another and the natural world in a more bal-
anced and pleasurable way” - as my fried
Paul E. Morphous puts it. In the past this has
taken such forms as the Gardeners Against
the Work Ethic Association in Carbondale, IL: a

1994 attempt at a summer of sprawling ‘

Qnarchism or Social Qnarchism:

Anarchy: Q Journal of Desire

NYG SH Nae

tivity which included a costumed lawn rip-up
for a “free feast garden,” many mind-alter-
ing experiments in non-verbal behavior and
non-sexual but intense physical touch and
play (“eroplay” as Frank Moore Calls it), a
orank in which the city council was made to
declare Wednesdays a holiday, and various
“space poaching” contestations of normalcy
like a group erotic stumbling exercise in a
mall. ’ve also traveled across country with a
nomadic band in a school bus as another
anarchic experiment. In contrast to the
socialistic soberness of Bookchin’s anarchism,
we seek to create anarchy on the level of
immediate experience. Our activity is an
Underground current of libertarian entice-
ment to a revolutionary transformation that
is a geyser of pleasure pushing away all con-
straints.

When | read about the 848 space, | feel a
deep resonance as well as significant differ-
ences. Inspired targely by the Living
Theater’s call for an “art that would instigate
and support and be a revolution,” the 848’s
approach to the fusion of art/politics/tife
might benefit from an encounter with that of
the situationists, with their call for a revolu-
tion that would abolish art as a separate Cat-
egory by realizing it in every day life. At the
same time, the situationist-inspired milieu has
largely ceased to have any living creative
practice - whereas 848 has much of the vital
quality of a launching pad for contestation
beyond the boundaries of art anyway.

It’s inspiring to read the personal anec-
dotes of public, fully uncloseted love; and
just to hear of the incredible diversity!

It takes a rare courage to step back and
examine what you’ve done the way they
have, and to open up to seeing if you might
want to try something else. As | dream of
what could be next for me and my shifting
webwork of collaborators, ’m asking more
now: what have been the limits of insurgent
play? Are we ready for something more
intense? Deeper and more conscious alter-
ations of consciousness, post-linguistic frolics
and eroplay? There is momentum building for
“centers” of experimental ludic life, such as

aw

at

win:

Ma Ie

oe
“ Se,
* % ats
Loe y Ger:
RRR Bt Poa

, Sy gine
7% ;

ian,

re

DW, HONEY, You KNOW
} Love You MORE THAN
ANY COLOSTOMY BAG

rural base camps in dynamic interplay with
urban areas. How might we attempt a sus-
tained psycho-geographic assault on an envi-
ronment? And how might our projects be
informed by the 848 experience?

Unru Lee

yoo Sz

Dear Frank

\ ) ) \ Cherotic early food for thought Jesse poem is
todays I had done a longish piece on Jesse
called the reefer demigod but my main pub-

lisher has sat on it for some reason.
Tape I mailed was a present not a submis-
sion just to say; ‘ well, HI, there folks * from
elliott
€ Cherotic has lots of think stuff like life has
more to it than prearranged circumstances.
SOL My thoughts run something like this on the
subject. Nature recycles everything rain to
river to evaporation to sky to river to flesh
to bone to dust to mineral to fertilize the soil
to refurbish new growth over and over every
atom is used and used again nothing is wast-
ed neither is the life-force that man calls his
soul. It recycles hence some strong willed
people can recall past lives. The Buddhists
think what you do effects how this perpetual
cycle will end but they are incorrect for it is
\) a flow but it is benign but it is not pre-set on
some level of karma There is no higher plane
only higher recognition of the present Today
I went to CLAYTON FORBELL & GLYNN
funeral parlor where they layed my girl-
friend Diane out in 1986. This town was
flooding from all the melting snow. I walked
to the river where we had met back in the

Jgesse’s Blues

aie.

Jesse Helms love Jesus
the savioure he feels the same

=
got hisself a day-glow ‘ I love Jesse ’ a FA
bumper sticker on the back of ae

4

his dodge caravan ( what you expect

God to drive, some piece of shit jap | early seventies. i sat on a metal bench
junk shitbox, you limp wristed faggot (somehow dry in all the snow). I stared out
commie pinko four eyed mutha-fucker of oa at the frozen river and she called to me. I

; eg ; wondered how far across i could walk until
a nigger living son of a bitch. ) the ice cracked and I drowned but I stared
Jesse Helms loves Jesus out at the river and realized that she was life

and i was life so the solution was to turn and
walk away. I think the main problem with life
is that people don’t realize the universe itself
rests between their legs. They keep waiting
for a savioure to pop out of their asshole but
only shit does and they always look so sur-
prised. I expect only shit and deal with life

He’s the defender of our rights
And he’ll let you go most anyplace
Just as long as you are white
Jesse helms loves freedom

to say just as he please

and when no one is looking

; ; accordingly.
He takes it on his knees OH yeah check is for new issue and glad to
Jesse helms loves America be aboard the erevolution some of our
so virgin and so clean thoughts run roughly on the same path
but he reserves the right to own
; always love,
your every single dream elliott

Jesse Helms loves the N.R.A, the GAO and more
The F BI the CIA and marines on foreign shores
Jesse Helms loves Jesus

and all things pre-ordained

the precognition of our

spiritual being and all things

I can’t stand so everybody sing

FUCK YOU jesse FUCK YOU chear them drums) fuck you jesse fuck you

FUCK YOU jesse even Jesus hates you jesse your own mother hates you

jesse so FUCK YOU jesse FUCK YOU (hear them drums and fife)
fuck you jesse fuck you take it up the cornshoot tobacco man
even your Own mama hates you jesse cause you an asshole jesse
and you give everybody the jesse blues

16) elliott

G!NPU, LAB ASH

WY VA, ag

LEE’S UNLEADED BLUES/
CHICAGD, SOUTH SIDE

Che's leopard skin

wrapped and sweating

a shiny sweat

breasts huge and heavy

rise with the beat of

the words

WM ALLY, WL: you? ed
don’t worry if you ain t

got no big breasts -

it’s what you do with

the rest”

penciled brows eurve a tease /
she sings sultry

rockin’ the red velvet r00m ;

heavy lidded guys sweatin’
out her slowwww words

she nass them with her in D
rotating

lips (ull and reddened a
out the beat

toying undauntedly

with their need

smoke rises slow and Gj
deer (lows
the 200m mellows into red hue

the mood is ripe
\ de

IN
Zz
abhhhh the Wlues have stirred

me into a sultry sway

roe \
the r00m drips anit

Ana Christy .

ee ee » Ew!

ov
O
O
Gg
oa
c}

ea:

haishi si

this haight with it’s mass energy

and lethargy-coffee houses crammed

with writers and artists jewelry

makers and chess players playing

off rickety ashtray filled tables \ {
He

this haight is a light show of

people and color-transients seek

the dream of freedom
panhandlers playing penny games

4

on sidewalks
check cashing lines for welfare
checks

)

NS ,
on haight kids out of panhandlers

RN(\
park washing up in cafe washrooms
counting change for coffee-bumming
cigarettes
sidewalks swept off booze bottles
and piles of clothing as the sun
rises over thrift store leopard
coats

x

on haight colored flyers flapping
on poles

° this an acid trip of color

it’s frenzy and laidbackness is

y

the backbone of san francisco and

. —
here i am at one with myself
oe | ~
CY on this haight i am the angel of Go
contentness with merging unity
Ze

and the tye-dyed buddha gives me
a laughing wink.

Vo

S
Oo

Ana Christy

om *

a

Ths Fall and Ruin: a Cry

by Dr. Bryan D. Reddick

Elmira College
Elmira, New York 14901

er house was like a big, messy mind.

And whenever she cleaned up downstairs,

which was extremely seldom now, she

always ended up by brushing things under
the rug or behind the sofa, stacking those unread
magazines in some other corner scarcely disturbing
their dust, and throwing most of that old stuff she
was going to sort out one day into an unused old
trunk she kept just under the stairs.

She often thought there must be things living
under there, some enormous, uncharted animal, or
rats and roaches and things, a teeming bed of life all
covered up and not often talked about. “It was as if
the house were built on the sea and if you opened
the little door leading under the stairs you’d see
the living waters shimmering with never-ending
movement and undreamed excitement.” That, she
thought one time, was eternity ... living just under
her stairs like a sleeping hypothalamus.

And she never really went under there or even
downstairs anymore, no more often than she had to.
It was dirty: that was it.

She stood up to survey her work. Gleaming and
clean, the tiny room lay before her.

All was prepared.

Mentally she surveyed the lab one floor below—
the electrodes, the meters and computers, the as yet
lifeless woman-model itself. Yes, all there too was
waiting, ready, as she had left it. All was quietly
awaiting tomorrow.

She stepped again across the tiled floor, stooped
to peer into the crevice between the slick wall and
the bottom of the stool, genuflected briefly as her
acrofoam sponge swiped across the cool and curving
stone. The drying film of moisture sparkled in the
light.

She straightened again, and turned. Yes, here too

in the tiny third floor room, all was neat and ordered.

The sink, the tub, the stool itself, the cabinet before
it where alone on the shining shelf sat her black box
of bank statements and stock reports. All shone and
winked at her, and she felt calm and relaxed.

“It does a woman good once in a while,” she
used to say, “to get down on her hands and knees.”

It had been during one of the times when she
‘was reading over those bank and stock figures (her
grandchildren, she called them), then when her neat
little bathroom was still on the ground floor, one
day already so long ago, when she had suddenly
thought of all the dirty little things crawling around
in her under-the-stairs basement. Perhaps she had
been thinking of insecticides and rat poisons, and
she had very distinctly heard a noise. Not a very
frightening sound in itself, but definitely she heard,
or was she only imagining it? a peculiar little rumble,
or a snarl.

She had become somewhat alarmed, and had left f

that first tile-smooth chamber, somewhat dingy and
old in those times, to prowl the great downstairs
floor. She hadn’t gone far, however, when there was
something, was it a sound? a vibration? something
which guided her attention to the doorway under
the stairs.

It was then, and immediately too, that she had
decided to move upstairs. For from behind the shad-
owed doorway there had been, or she felt there had
been—she often said now, of course, that she must
have been imaging it, “her reckless imagination” —
what was it? how did she perceive it? a deep, sighing,
JZroaning moan.

It had been—her eyes glazed now remembering
it, and her stomach felt empty—“it was as if the
house were built on a windstorm and now the
winds were whirling through the aging beams of
a pirate’s trusty schooner, listing and creaking as
the masts trembled and the ship groaned before
splashing down, down into the turbulent waters
of the sea below.”

She had gathered all her things, her then small
collection of equipment too, and had moved entirely
and unhesitatingly to the house’s middle floor. And
ever after, despite the filth which had met her there
(she surmised that the under-stairs pipes had been
somehow blocked), despite the days of toil she had

been forced to spend cleaning the foul rooms of the
excrement she’d found there, she had made her
decision final, and almost never again descended to
her house’s lower floor ... no more often than she
had to.

And soon, of course, she had been forced to
leave that entire middle floor for her burgeoning
laboratory, forced again to move up a floor, to lose
days of valuable time cleaning the filth-choked
rooms upstairs. But she had carried on, knowing
then, of course, that there would soon be her own
porcelain suite, spotless and glisteningly clean.

By now she had left the bathroom for the bed-
room, and had begun to prepare for sleep.

She sat there in her clean little chamber with the
fluorescent lights on before bed. She sat there, hold-
ing a shoe thoughtfully in her nimble hand.
“Tomorrow,” she said to the shoe.

Tomorrow she would descend to the lab (and
there was warmth in the thought of it), and she
would finish it, the woman she was building, her
mirror image. Then she could begin, “and all her
works would praise her name.”

That, she thought to her shoe, is eternity.

She occasionally thought as well, though she
said nothing of it since she didn’t want it to seem
she was complaining, that it was rather unpleasant to
have to work where it was so dirty. Her laboratory
was on the middle floor of her house, though some-
times she worked out of hours in her nice little room
upstairs. And she couldn’t help noticing now and
again that there was a door which led from one dark
corner of the lab into that eerie little storage room
under the stairs by means of a short narrow staircase
leading almost straight down. She would, on occa-
sion, throw furtive glances in the direction of that
little door, though it had long since been bolted and
barred, and sometimes wondered if, when the lights
were out in the lab, though they almost never were,
she couldn’t see just a little bit of a glowing, showing
from underneath the door. “As if the house were
built on the sunset and the door was the last
cloud the old sol would wink behind before bub-
bling its hot orange magic underneath the very
mountains she was standing on.”

It had been only after the second move—she
was getting into her pajamas—when she had left the
middle floor for her lab, that her work had taken its
new and decisive direction. She was building another

woman, a model of himself, a woman which would
walk and move and have her being just as she him-
self did. A perfect replica of the human form, just
what humanity needed, a woman-model to observe.
The model would show her what they required, for
progress. And there would be no involvement, no
messy subjectivity. She would be like a test tube or a
centrifuge, the algae or a mouth-watering dog.

It was such a great idea!

She swung her legs onto the bed, and, sighing,
lay back. The fluorescents above sparkled through
the water before her eyes.

_ She was never quite sure whether or not she
liked her work. Not that that was important, but it
sometimes amused her to try to decide, “lying there
waiting for sleep to invade, like Ethiopia over
Mussolini.”

There was, of course, the money. Reluctant gov-
ernments were nevertheless paying dearly those days
for research and construction perhaps destined to
solve oh so many problems facing humankind at the
moment, perhaps at any moment.

“I’m not doing it for that,” she said to herself.
“Oh I’m not working for the money.” For indeed,
she had no real need for money, her house, her
equipment, her food and simple pleasures all so
freely provided by the government or from privately
donated funds. Yet there was the little black metal
box placed carefully on the empty white shelf in the
bathroom cabinet, before her when she sat; and she
would often pass an hour or two there, reading glee-
fully the records she kept in the box, the increasing
figures, the history of her prolific little grandsons
and grand-daughters running around from bank to
bank, from pile to pile, from hand to hand, making
people happy while they bred a little more the
months ahead.

“That too,” she like to think, “was eternity:
coins breeding in a fertile pile of gold.”

She knew she must like all that sort of thing—
and the calculations too—but somewhere, some-
where beneath the white rubberized laboratory
trousers she always wore or next to the superthin
calculator she often carried in her breast pocket,
somewhere where her eyes could not see, nor her
microscope, nor her fluoroscope, there a@ voice “like
a warm breeze wandering through the hot fin-
gers of a dry summer night’s grass fire” was
telling her there was something else in the work, in
the lab itself, “something dark and fierce like the
uncharted in some Arizona pool.” There was
something fierce and dark in the lab which drove her

on “as a midnight blaze drives a mad, blind stal-
lion charging into the darkness where she cannot
see, but charging on and on.”

She rolled onto her back; she was panting.

But her work was important, perhaps vital, she
told herself, to all humanity; and she would go on
with it day by day carrying on cheerfully, even eager-
ly. And tomorrow, she would ...

She yawned, and the fluorescents swam above
her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she dreamed of
a racetrack and of himself clocking a speeding unicorn.

eae ad R ee

She had risen early that day, nervous with antici-
pation. She had stubbed her toe on the cold white
stool while her eyes were still filled with sleep. She
had dressed carefully, favoring her throbbing toe and
concentrating on remaining calm.

She had descended from her little room ... as
usual, she thought to herself; it’s just a normal day.
Yet the key had somehow crawled through her fingers
and bounced to the floor when she began to unlock
the lab door; and somewhere she knew.

She had entered the lab; there was nothing
changed. Her equipment lay still before her, meticu-
lously arranged and prepared. Yet she had not begun
her work. She had been drawn instead to turn about
the room, which was quiet and somehow unbalanced
by the slanting rays of sunlight which were playing
through the only little window near the back. She
had paused there before the little door leading down
to the under-stairs; she had carefully reached out her
hand to check the bolts and bars, and could not now
forget that they had distinctly felt warm to her cold,
unsteady fingers.

It had been months since she had checked her
small white cabinet just beside the outer door across
the room. But now she did; today she felt it was
‘important. She ran a short test on a drop she took
from the small black vial she kept there.

It was still potent.

It was foolish, she thought cynically to himself,
to keep it there. Yet she did not trust the glowing,
snarling, softly waving under-stairs, and the poison
she’d distilled from monkey urine would kill any
beast or monster she might have to face. Perhaps it
was—yes, she smiled at her hesitancy, it was foolish;
but she had humored herself that morning and had
found there a sort of confidence.

She had moved on and on about the room, and
had finally begun.

And just as the woman was born, just as the
model began slowly to stir, to blink her glazed eyes
and to scowl, then—she could not now forget it—
then, she had felt the floor shift “like the deck of a
faltering vessel.” The room was suddenly warm, §
and from the little door—she must have been imag- |
ing it—there was a glowing like the sunrise and a
moaning like a strange imprisoned animal.

The model woman now sat before her, and
knew why she’d been made. The model was wise,
and her creator quick to note all her motions and
thoughts, though the noting mind often clouded
with a dark thought of the cabineted vial.

“I am empty,” said the woman.

And she knew that it was true.

Just then, as the woman-model began to speak,
the floor began to shake and the walls rattle. The
fluorescents flashed and died, but the room was
light.

There was a rumbling, a snarling, a roaring like
the wind in a fire, and the bars on the little door
glowed with heat and fell away.

There was fire everywhere, the floor, the lights.
The woman-model’s eyes flashed in wonder and in
terror as her creator vomited and writhed in her
burning rubber pants.

The door smashed open. The woman-model
fled, and, running out and up the stairs to the clear
white room, she gulped hungrily from the foul vial.

But she, she did not flee, and knew she did not
want to go. She was standing then, awaiting it, and
it washed over her in a boiling bath. She stood fast,
her hands raised high above her head, knowing that
she did not want to run, exulting savagely and
painfully in the violent burning of her flesh as the
uncharted animal, the swimming seas of boiling unc-
tion, the blind, windblown, charging stallion, and the
flames crashed upon her like black waves on a sunny
rock.

And as died, as she perished in the awful sea
from the under-stairs, her house fell to ruin about
her, an innocent victim of the dark savage fight
between the flowing sunsets from below the floor
and the piles of excrements on the roof.

Her house had fallen into smoldering rubble,
floating like dirty scum on a sunlit sea.

And today the wet, charred ruins of her house
cry out to the never-ending skies: “One day, oh
humanity, let there be built a house where seas
and stools can live united, as in the well-ordered
mind of a rose!” ,

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(212) 627.8488

(|
Fax

(212) 468.7983

ectege,

a rant on an open mike

by

frank moore
copyrighted August 16,1995

the open mike

is the most democratic channel.
well maybe except for hyde park sproul soapbox freedom.
anyone can sign up

to step up to bat,

step up to the mike

and into the sacred belljar

where art poetry is free to expose truth,

free to use whatever it takes,

whatever style it takes to expose truth..

that is, until your given time runs Out

and hooks you around the neck and yanks you

from the belljar stage.

but in the belljar channel

you are in danger testing, crying, being so sucking bad that both you and they curse your birth,
sharing found ideas, listening to the silence and the polite clapping greeting your bomds or to
your ravings Of rage that hit too close to home, messing up the nice polite parlor

entering the open mike belljar is a lap into uncontrolled possibilities, uncomtortable quest
through good bad boring embarrassing and sometimes magical.

nobody owns the belljan

except when you are in the channel,

in the pipe behind the mike,

holding the modern talking stick Fa
until it is time to pass it on to the next:

but the talking stick is everyone's, aap
for anyone with something to express.

if one is banned, censored, from holding the talking stick

just to punish, just to protect a neat fragile nice order
we all are banished from the sacred talking stick which becomes just a cock that we rub.

i get worried if my words and images fit through veins clogged with fatty taboos of polite
appropriate of comfortability.

i get worried..is the art that small that it fits through that pinhole of a hole..so small that nudes
on the walls, words on telephone poles, any shift in the social power structure threatens the

very reality fabric. 9 |
225 | a ( dy

'm too proud to admit the art poetry is that small. so my art becomes a roto-rooting balloon
covered in razors tipped in draino acid,

pushing pressuring uncomfortable unsocial grinding against the grain until the killer tatty clots
of taboos burst out the other end and go down the drain like trouble.

| don't really go after the hitlers, the mecarthys, the helms, or their brown shirts.

they ane just limp-dicked power-junkies with swiss-cheese egos, each hole filled with inferiority.
they are just moons with no power light of themselves, just reflecting fear

no, igo after the nice people who never asked where the trains were going, boxcars filled with
people. didn’t have to. only suspected, only heard rumors..after all, the general is a friend. never
said, excuse me, i am a jew too, a jap too, a gay too, I've negro blood running in my body, aids too.
i'm a commie who took home movies of our nude kids. so better put me on that train too. better
put us all on that train. there ain't no train big enough!

igo after the nice people who keep going to work after seeing their friends missing, atter hear-
ing rumors of blacklist and blackball. must write something about that subject to THE TIMES. he
used to be such a pleasant fellow..but now he is a whining paranoid..not a sort to nave to tea.
he is like a wet messy fart not in my backyard! }

yes, i go after nice people. but my time in the belljar is about over. so i'll leave you with this. what
is happening in your backyard is what really matters. so be sure to weed!

23)

& ; GS 0, | d Vig C a O,
| i lyric mS

(country SONG

a
— Fike your Mama eave me a bad rag, Lf & was a gold digger, hone
& deh, so you can el her for me, ' 4 wouldnt ta for gold .
in a river

Lf & was a gold digger honey, full of fool's gold
Z wouldnt pan for geld in a river full
of fool's gold Youre not quite as handsome,
Lf & was a gold digger, honey got a tooth thats loose, ww
£0 be in a penthouse in Dew Uork and hair you still have left \
with servants walking poodles is turning grey,
and a chauffeur come around Your hands are tough from tyin rege
to take me to the mall , and beardin ug the fences
Lo have a ball se "they wouldnt put you on a billboard

* 4 oe

Cc * for Marlbore
Lf & was a geld digger honey " though you wear a Stetson hat, sometimes
4 wouldn't be stuck here

on aranch with ne lectricity Youre an ordinary

in sub-zero weather regular

with crazy hunters sheetin : square-dancin, whee n hollerin

everything in sight cowboy dreamer from the old wild West

includin' me. ou aint no Saint! ™
You and the boys

Lf & was a gold digger, honey and the beer and the noise

7 dy and the flashing glint in your eye

Ld be ed ona yacht that devilish look,

in the ON editerranean its the nearest thing to gold Lil ever see,

4d be dancing in the moonlight £m not lookin for gold

with a man whose grammars @ood in the morteages and creditors

with big diamond tte on his Pain and fasesheade goin on, La) r al II

and two Mercedes, please, the Bankers and the promissory notes,

just for me fll we got to take to the bank is your

Lf & was a gold digger, honey : confidant, down- heme,

Z wouldn't sit here in the dark
when all the lights go out

and hear the wolves howling

son- of- a- gun, ne- holds- barred,
take- me- as- L- am, helluva- man
rawhide- boots an tight- jeans swagger! ;

while L creeo about

and try te fing OR Lf & was a gold digger, honey
the window, and close It Z wouldnt gan for geld

so the snow dent fill the house ug in a river full

while the cat Is out of food. a * of fool's gold

OS AN i a aD

sting, ils Dorethy cJesse Beagle

ni ET FUSS PANTRY MUSIC (BIND)

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aA AAW ARS

lite

ete Me

ere

inn nobody,

I lay sleepless in this lonely cell, feeling like

Some unforme thing existing in a jar on the shelf i 3

] in some research laboratory, and perhaps its intend-
j ed for me, this dissection of time, with only dreams
1 of things that once was, what I wish was now, and

what will probably never be. How can | express the
| visual concept of my present existence or the pains Ee

and suffrage constantly being endured, when
| nobody hears or cares, when nobody wants to hear
or care, for fear of becoming sympathetic of ancth-
er human being pain.

I lie here tke the skeletons of last years leaves

desires are all for nothing. Nothing! Do you under

|| stand? I dort expect the experience of love or hap~

Bs] pines to ever again visit my life. Not that I would
a purposely reject if, but that love has fo have a

©] beginning, and I think it begins in the home, and it

(081 starts from when youre hounced off the knee or off

2 the wall. Im foo old for the knee, and so encased

within walls that I tend fo feel that In a part of the
wall. So love dont love nobody, and right now, In

Lam, it is true, running out of time and space.

| For a little longer I will see ond hear, but it will be fe

q nothing, and fo the world I will mean nothing. In the
j end, not foo far distant, there will be on unbridge-

able silence between these that knew me and those .
5] that wasted time In not “1” know me. All I Fe
am) ON ever hope for is before | ¢j

e, it is well thet
consider of what my final image as 4 man, 45 4 per~
| son may be ~ the image that will give me 4 kind of
A earthy immortality or represent, perhaps, my final
collective vn? efernity. Then once again my
] thoughts and moods can be dissected with no under-
| standing of my feelings, my needs, my desires or m
| dreams, because there was no one willing fo inf
J out and touch that part of me, but would rather see
me 45 only on object of discussion. But it is fo the
seeds of death within me/man that I must address
you/humanity before I dare ask this final question
| of what may stand for all of us when all else is fall-
Jen and gone down. We shall net begin with
Western society, we shall begin with man. We shall

sa] open that symbolic sepulcher of which Melville
MG speaks. We shall grope in the roiling, tumultuous Fe

rkness for that umplumbed vacaney which
Melville termed $0 jronically the soul of man.

I lie here victimized by clreumsfances out of my
control as the cold rp winter night wind F

envelopes my body info rigi

fades from my consciousness. God must have val-
ued time highly ~ He gives us just one second at a

time. It fook me lets of years fo figure out that this f
moment is all [have or will ever have. Yesterday is f
ay and fomorrow is 4 very well kept secret BF

reaming of the past or planning for the future has

eit place | suppose, but the only thing we will ever
do we will do new. No one knows wht fomorrow
gives or fakes away,

It is said that affliction can have educational
value In which case, I should have 4 PH.D. In my
simple world ony adversity can become my best
friend. I try to live by the old saying; What hap-

pens fo me Is never as important as what I do about

it. One of the best military maneuvers in the face be

of overwhelming odds is retreat. My mother use to
say; Its better fo he 4 living coward, than a dea
hero, for 4 coward lives to fight anether os But |

| dont think this situation has anything to do with

being 4 coward or hero, but whether I have the
sense fo redlize 4 no-win situation.

Some men do time. | use time. This is why the
many years of my exile (nedreeration) have rested
quietly beside each other. But the toil of these years
have left deep FeAPy, psychologically, physically,
emotionally, and spiritually. There were times when
I had to di info my rage for inner strength, and
other times when | had fo rely on unconventional
wisdom. Since I cannot visit my dead ancestors,
they sometimes come and visit me. Sometimes you
must talk to the dead in order to find out how to live,

how fo survive, who you are, or where you came F
from. And who knows ... maybe even where youre |

M4 | | |
e night has been silent except for the tic fae
of the clock or an occasional scream from someone

fighting off the demons within their minds and

reams, and I wonder what more can be said, of
have I said anything at all? I do know its 4 a.m. and

1 | dare not continue at this time for fear of reitera-

we and painful aches, F
2.1 staring at empty, blank walls, aged with time 45 time

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Ny at night, before | —

S Monsters in my mind As
a=, In the dark, inside the Keep

yZ Monsters in my mind
They unlock the door, and creep “
| stir’and jump at €very sound
Insane abandon, they fly around
Monsters in my mind.

A silent scream, ne’er to hear
Monsters in my mind
My bile rises, unmatched fear
Monsters in my mind
Wi> Inside my head, they claw my brain
I try to run, escape the pain
A shelter from the piercing rain !
j Monsters in my noni. Gul sheneray,3 a
Mice . Monsters in my mind
Sy 8 They speak to me with foul tonque
TR Ie ; Save me from my self-made Hell
or unsung Monsters in my ming
Monslers ininy mind 2 C< These demons of my tortured dreams
| try so hard, to block my ears Have cornered me and forced the screams

My eyes explode, deluge of tears et ee flesh, rended the seams

A monkeywrench inside my gears SiStehe 1. y Tne.

Monsters in my mind.
| s€e now, nowhere to run

ww | beg although no answer comes ‘tbe in bi ae 4
Monsters in my mind , now now, that | am cone

sf Sy Monsters in my mind
oncioe nde alagaay \\ Hitting the ground youll hear a thud
My memory of lite | miss ) And s€€ a growing patch of mud
Deatening sound of the beasts’ hiss /f{@) That's made of dirt and liteless blood
It chases me in this abyss / Monsters meray mind.

Monsters in my mind. ' Awakened now, bathed in sweat

Monsters in my mind
The nightmares not over yet
Monsters in my mind
They slink inside their darkened crack
With the promise that they'll be back
: : ey Yf Driving deeper, knives in my back
as Si a 7 Uf, Monsters in my mind.

Strteadas
LTTUTYNT ENV Err > yh, 1994 Grasshopper Cae?
iat TE WG Gis. mi oe

ies Aen é Gi pi ‘
p oe 3 i eR Ain A) | (com
YA ‘a »” ) AY / ej ve 4 | - ; a'y,
Ll Ni ha 7 Ee , / ys 3 GIP | \L

i an rr “ Ui tl Aso D BRO Ry iN : )y ian

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BZ DIith LABASH LUN

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“She tells me all kinds of personal things,”
my mother said. She was talking about
Gloria, her closest friend. “And I really wish
she wouldn’t reveal some of this stuff. It
seems too personal, the kind of thing that
should be kept in the family. Just the other
day she mentions how Jimmy says weird
things, like he thinks people are talking
about him, or laughing at him, or how he
thinks someone’s following him.”

“Maybe he’s paranoid from smoking pot,”
I observed.

“That could be,” Mom said. “I just try to
deflect Gloria’s irritation, say things like we
all worry about what other people think of
us some of the time.”

“That’s true,” I said, “and also, it depends
on one’s personality. I mean, because some-
times people are talking about you, and
maybe that’s the unfortunate side of sensi-
tivity or perception, to realize such things.
Ignorance is bliss, and all that.”

“Oh yes,” Mom said, “Gloria says he’s
very sensitive.”

“T’m not surprised, then. That and the
weed will do it to him. Remember how Dad
said that’s why he never enjoyed smoking
pot? Because it made him so paranoid?”

“Yes, I remember him saying that.”

“Well, that’s how it effects some people.”

“T don’t think Gloria understands that,”
Mom said. “Sometimes I wish she’d just calm
down and quit condemning Jimmy.”

I had not seen Jimmy in nearly twenty
years. We were in high school together, but
Jimmy was the principal’s son, and like a
preacher’s son, had to do something to prove
he wasn’t a goody two shoes. In my case, he
chose to bully me on a singular occasion,
which was easy enough considering he was
three years older than me. It was no big
deal; just a little shoving involved and my
departure from the school grounds when I
had otherwise planned to stay. It wasn’t
enough of a reason to hate him forevermore,
but on the other hand, that single incident
was why I remembered him.

All the predictable things happened to us
after high school; the usual marriages,
divorces, bachelorhoods, and middleaged phi-
landering; the successes and failures that
surprised all the noninsightful who had so
judged people on their teenage images; the
plain girl who blossomed into beauty, the

Talking about Jimmy

alcoholic who became a professor, the athlet-
ic stars who became laborers, the beauty
queens who became young mothers and
watched their looks fade amidst post-preg-
nancy obesity. Some went to college, some —
killed themselves. Most just settled into
lower or middle class obscurity. It was the
usual flux and flow.

Jimmy fell on some hard times through
no fault of his own. He advanced rapidly
through aerospace engineering at college,
immediately joined the Air Force, and main-
tained a dream of becoming an astronaut
through all kinds of trials and tests, until
suddenly his eyesight went, and he lost his
status as a jet pilot overnight with not a
chance in hell of ever riding the space shut-
tle. Other dominoes fell. His child died in a
freak highway accident. His wife left him. He
toughed out the Air Force at a desk job, then
returned to his hometown where he flew
light planes for a local car dealership.

“The only mistake Jimmy ever made was
checking into that mental institution,”

I said.

“T agree,” Mom said.

“All they did was use up his insurance
money, declare him cured, and set him loose.
And what did he do? Just went back to
smoking pot, which was harmless enough to
begin with — not the cause for hysterics that
Gloria went into. How can she believe all
that outdated, simpleminded crap about ‘pot
today, heroin tomorrow?’ Even in the old
days, we all knew that was a joke. And now
I know potheads who have done nothing but
smoke weed for twenty years. I mean, things
could be worse. Jimmy could be an alcoholic.
Now there’s an addiction, in the true sense
of the word. In the clinical sense. The physi-
ological change, and all that. No one ever |
died going cold turkey off of marijuana. And
yet, which drug is legal?”

“Not to mention deadly.”

“Exactly,” I said.

“And now he has that on his record forev-
er. I’m telling you, these psychologists have
the biggest scam going of all,” Mom said, and
launched into one of our favorite peeves.
“They pretend their work is science, when
it’s really only semi-educated guesswork. All
this theory, and the theories always change.
Back in my day Freud was all the rage. The
fact that our society trusts these people, lets

a

T. R. MILLERS

them testify in courts of law as experts,
beside the forensic pathologists and DNA
analysts, is the biggest hoax of the century.”

“No question about it,” I said. “And the
lawyers have learned to play the game. Did
you read about the guy’s trial? The one in
D.C.? About his wife’s murder? Two psychol-
ogists, one for the defense, one for the prose-
cution, each offering exactly opposite inter-
pretations of the same evidence. What did
they do? Coach these people beforehand?
Screen them in advance for their interpreta-
tions? Even if they didn’t, it just goes to
show you that the ‘social science’ of psychol-
ogy is anything but a science. What bullshit.”

“Isn’t that the truth, “ Mom said. We had
had this conversation before, but it never
failed to rouse our indignation. “Anyway,”
she continued, “I think you’re right. Jimmy
should never have checked into that clinic.
All they did was keep him doped up.”

“My, isn’t that ironic,” I laughed.

“Isn’t it, though? And now Gloria has all
of her prejudices against him confirmed.”

“What is it with her, anyway?” I mused.

“Oh, Gloria’s okay. She just gets into a snit
about some things.”

“She doesn’t understand Jimmy?”

“T think that’s a big part of it. He should
know better than to tell her certain things.
It’s like that guy you were talking about,
Ray.”

“Oh, the one who teased Susan about how
she would wreck her car. Yeah, he couldn’t
understand why that upset her so much.
‘They’re only words,’ he said. Can you

0)
\\ Mi 1) 2
Nu?
AY ink

believe that? A guy who calls himself a
writer, of all things, but fails to appreciate
the power, the tremendous power, the almost
mysterious power of words,” I gestured
emphatically. “And you can’t talk to these
people, either. You can’t explain it to them.
If they don’t already understand, there’s no
telling them.”

“That’s Gloria with Jimmy,” Mom said.
“She just keeps .. . well, she just keeps
reacting to him. Why can’t she just leave
him alone a little bit? I swear, she does more
damage that anything Jimmy does to him-
self.”

“Like a vicious circle.”

“T’m afraid so.”

“Well, the worst is over now, I hope. It
looks like Jimmy is going to carry on alright
now, isn’t he?”

“T sure hope so.”

We paused luxuriously and drank our cof-
fee. “People think the Salem witch hunters
were demented,” I said, “but things really
haven’t changed that much, have they?”

“We think our society is so ‘civilized’,”
Mom shook her head, “but we’re still barbar-
ic in sO Many ways.”

I nodded, and thought back about all the
strange things people have done throughout
the ages; how they seemed to go into fren-
zies of bizarre behavior, most dangerous
when in the name of righteousness.

“What weird creatures humans can be,”

I finally said.

=

TA, Miltgg ©

Will Sarvis

NK
WAN
SN x we

Vurs/vracro es ce Lorenzo fagtn

fe Anyway, back to what I was saying. This review “9
m™ can't be objective because I have known Barb =.
. over 15 years. But then p

os "2 WIG BAND, were too funny, too raunchy, too ae
3 direct to be “art”. They were just real artists :
: wes loads of fun, going way beyond the PC B

“¢taboo boundaries, singing such songs as@

We
er
«
“

: -

Ma ’Clit Envy”.
§ favorites on Barb’s CD. These lusty women “4

FRANK MOORE’S REVIEW OF BARBARA GOLDEN’S MULTIMEDIA PACKAGE

containing

HOME COOKING & GREATEST HITS vol. 1

( sce :
This is supposed to be &
review of Barb’sZ
cook- 4

ae
¥. combination
book/poetry book/art

book/ music-poetry CD. } b
= Already this descrip- “3
tion should tell you a 2
lot about both Barb:
oe a epson ee knowledgeable in Balinese music, and highly
J 3 J . thought of in the experimental/sound music
community that is in the John Cage tradition =:

for all of the senses.

for too long for that ..
reviews never are. So ..

mm L.A‘s performance artist Johaiies Went was to =
be at a club in S.F. The dildo spears and the 2

m feminine napkin vests with tampon fringe
lying on the stage didn’t clue me in ...

the three women came onto the stage, I was 35
Mm pretty sure it was not Went (I couldnt be *
absolutely sure until the drummer who was 3s
mM wrapped as a mummy did a strip ..

. ora roll).
a These three middle-aged women, called the

a Trashy Girls”, “Boner Boy”, “Tampon Rag”,

These songs are among my

p dess, a “sex worker’,

" 3 different styles that stick to your brain like ©

Rag ie

% @.

me Re
’ .

y 5 t=
. ‘
ms on

= Then one of them ..

*
*
a

grown up into trashy feminists ..

t feminists, arguably.

. the nicely fleshy one .
got off the stage, into the audience to play the
ig grand piano which happened to be next to

fa Where I was sitting. While there, she made a &

tl costume change. A nude slut after
| my own heart next to me ... what a show! So I

eS radio program “Crack o’ Dawn”
4 And what I have discovered is that she covers |

after: =

fem all, Went used these kinds of props. But when —__ ROCK. FRANK ZAPPA comes to mind, as does

“Molly Bloom ...

a lesbian, or an expert at §
" self-hand job. These are catchy little songs in q

~ Burner”,

copynght September 4, 1995
ey FRAN E BO OEE

made it my business to get to know this slut,

have dou-

a wide range both musically and artistically.

‘“@ Musically, she has a classical background, is

many times. j

‘this Barbara Golden. Over the years, we have :
e performed in each other's shows ...

ble billed together ... she has had me on her ¥

«

4%
Piha
a =

The CD opens
sensual/erotic

long
with &

doses with
backed

and
poems,

music...poems that by themselves are worth (Sauiuam
i the price of this package. I have called Barb a Same

= Molly Bloom. The poem “My Pleasure” forced

=z Kk that description on to me. “My Pleasure” is aff =
» day-long epic quest of one woman for plea- @i
os sures .
ae envious. Food, breakfast and lunch with only a i
food is

z

.. her CD contains several of her sound pieces. S

== Then why these silly trashy dirty songs ...
“many of which were co-written by fellow
.-: WIGer, Johanna Poehig? Granted, “Trashy Girls”
- opens with a great long blues wailing horn #
J solo. But they are still just silly, trashy, cheap © *

songs. Or that is what they look like on the ::

surface. But these songs, THE WIG BAND, and ing disappointments.

Barb belong to the school of what I call TACK

been many tack rock bands ...
SNAKES, COUNTRY PORN, and my own OUTRA-

wa GEOUS BEAUTY REVUE are examples of tack ff

S : k : . e : P phe: 2 a os ;
OBGhs TACCIOGS USES TMISIS eNataere tS? TMANIEY meq through the book in a sidebar. In other words, 2eaneea

skits, taboos, sex, and anything else that is

» handy to satinze the accepted cultural/moral

: small break for other life activities ...

. a quest that would make James Joyce @

the beginning in quantities only the greek §
- goddesses could eat ... so sensual sexual...and
= you get the recipes right there in Barb’s Home

44 Cooking! Then, after this type of hunger is sat-

isfied, this female force goes out in search of @
a man to bring home to satisfy some of her ®

other hungers, after to be discarded for the}

= solo pleasures of booze, dope, rubbing herself %
= into dreams ... hiding in eternity from disturb-

: The book Home Cooking is much more than a ji 7

EN THE TUBES. Here-in' the Bay Area, there have a m sensual cookbook. It contains the words and

LEILA AND THE §

iy music to all the songs on the CD. Many of her .

“F me lusty poems and drawings, many sexy photos bets ees
&@ of Barb are also included. There is even a tran- et be
g script of a radio interview of Barb running j

B you get Barb, someone who blends different i

frame. Barb’s best trashy songs sneakily set off -

major timebombs ...

rent pop news figures. These figures had a very

but the timebombs are

ag veiled by Barb's character of a modern day im
songs with a hidden musical je
vitality. The songs that have gone stale are the §

© liked sex, men, cars, sex, men, clothes, shop-. qones with subjects such as Michael Jackson, &
‘ ping, booze, giving/getting head, etc. This Nancy Reagan, and Oliver North that were cur- Pe
; was/is during the time when sex lust for life e

, was/is out of fashion unless you are a sex god- gam Short shelf life. But be warned, if you listen to “te, 3

these songs, your brain will drive you crazy for &
days or weeks singing to you lines from them &

“Michael Jackson, you're so pretty ... I

= But when the trashy songs flaunt the grown up @
& valley girl Molly Bloom moral lust for life sex Rw

Cals ...

ee takes on both the moral majonty and the stick-
x) up-their-ass “feminists” who tried their darnd- im
est to make the last 20 years vapid. In these °%

outrageous songs, Barb offers an alternative ...
“Back

“Tt hurts me so much to see how
you cringe from a touch.”
. all with a sad, :

suffering, enjoying ... fully ..

‘Drea mer’.
x % Pats

>: Se x ©
eo ee 4 .

= > - - =e ae f. . &

vy” 3 ; 7 é were

It just got human. ,
y- No new age answers here. Just living, feeling, '

chewing gum. Songs by/about valley girls gif WANT THE ELEPHANT MAN!!!” “SAY YES SAY YES "4

. the only true : F JUST SAY YES!”

for everything pleasurable...Barb really e tasteless songs, prose/poetry, illustra-

Ff? the Molly Bloom trashy girl alternative. But
* then Barb explores the down side of the Molly 2 4
“>? Bloom that she is. In the sad song, :
ae she forces herself to pull back from Wt
“zm her young lover before he realizes that he is
Meer tired of her...

ingredients ... of food, art, music, and life ...
to create very filling, tasty, and satisfying ]
dishes.

“Sex, Politics, eee ... Barbara
Golden is a wild woman, a political
commentator, a dreamer, a mom, a
slut, and hard to get a handle on...

+ The song titles alone would give Jesse ,

Helms the apoplexy he so richly
deserves- ‘Boner Boys, Clit Envy,
Tampon Rag, she careens from the

= grossest raunchiness to poetic austeri-

ty’ Barbara Golden’s tasty recipes and

tions and photos. The cd is a retro-

spective of Goldens most popular

songs and audio works.” Kyle Gann,
THE VILLAGE VOICE

c Te sd ag =
Boece rate A ° ar |
2. +
,
ais

3 wistful hope captured in her beautiful song f ¥

Felix
is chomping grass S—*
with a hard-on... Thomas BN
is building a farm within the
walls of citiscape bustle and tech-
nological microchip existence... The farm
forgets all.. hope is plowed under and
) springs forth from dirt.. belief is a pile of hop-
scotch horseshit.. guitars sing life.. candle death is
bitter sticky sweet ooze of life... Preservation is eternal...
socks reek sweat and must.. butts lie still.. Hendrix is dead...
Faith is a keyhole peek and can’t see nothing good but hope
assnaked bumping just out of reach.. Masturbation is timeless... cum

smells dead... the sea feeds earthfish to spawn in goopy globs splay foot old
women must taste first to analyze: Standing on beaches of summer homes they
could never afford... bending over stupid fat ankles and varicose veins ploom-
ing out all over.. bending out over sticky fat two dollar plastic and rubber
beach sandals stretched to their limits and reaching ignorant tourist finger
down to touch ocean while standing next to a friend of same position (equal or
lesser) in stature... bending next to Mable or Myra or Agnes or May and saying,
bringing finger to mouth, “Why yes, Myra, I think that it is fish cum. Perhaps
salmon or sea-bass - maybe even eel. Yes, Myra, it is a fat dripping gob of fish
cum - Oh No! I've spilled some on my fancy new fringed fat ladies swimsuit
bought in big grand shopping trip in preparation for our first real vacation
in twenty years, since Grandpa died. But yes, it is fish cum and oh, so good
- here, Myra, try some... see it’s good for the skin to rub it in here and here...

like this... let me show you... see, in the wrinkles around the face and nose
and all in here where we should have suffered childbirth

scars but never did cause we were too busy watch-
ing Grandpa die and baking bread and cookies
we would eat alone and cry over at night. But
see here, Myra, how good the fish cum
makes you feel and tingle and yearn... but
alone, and quiet and not for many.

Demin ys

wisir

many years now...
The scene fades as the two
old splay foot sisters stand
alone in floral print swim-
suits big as circus tarps,
by water too cold for
swimming, and gently rub rich fish
cum info each other’s drooping
pits and flappine
holds.

=
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aS ae ‘ghe sits nude beside him, talking to him, with one hand rubbing him, with |
a eo se 2 her other hand guiding his hand rubbing on her pussy .... relax ritual,

_ peaceful. he curls his body around hers. licks her leg. she starts a)
~4 "rocking, pressing his rubbing hand more firmly to her for pleasure, - Rates

"-. 2 rocking in pleasure.

he pulls her down beside him, half on him, his leg sliding in between
aS wis her legs, moving it gently to create the same warm creamy
. ate, -, dreamy turn-on in her as her rubbing hand is creating in him. gig-
m. cee Ae 2 gling licking ears, biting necks, belly deep, heart deep sounds of joy
Miele eer eo * leak out of the both of them. emotional sounds of relief of having

aR ga ye

tbe dot a each other. kissing deeply, her hips moving, her hand rubbing, his nose in

Bey her armpit, then his tongue. she moves up, letting his tongue follow the 4

7 Ai ae “ff curve of her breast to the nipple.

“Bayer. “* 2, he pulls her all the way on top of him. he licks and sucks and enjoys
ee oe es and explores deeply every part of her body as she slowly
slides upward. she rocks in licking pleasure. deep pleasure

ey, =

; Bee ie oe ‘ ae now, she begins her own downward journey of licking
ieee Ab tae s ” | kissing exploring of his body. he rubs her back and
i eg ‘6 head. she takes her time when she reaches his cock

werd ah ay - . rubbing kissing licking. he pulls her back up to kiss, to Ps

ae: Ee, me Jae look in her eyes. belly rubbing on belly. rocking together,

et "giggling together, hips moving slowly passionately. two bodies |
* oe ae . with skin of warming wax, melting together into one body.

“EB “hue ” she sits up on him and rocks back and forth on his responding body, rub- |
. na bing into body laughing. sometimes they look far into each other's
' . eyes. other times they are two kids taking their first roller-coast-

ce ha er ride. sometimes they just close their eyes, surrendering to the o nae

ia? tides of moaning pleasure. his hands play with her tits, belly, and
Ae pussy. she turns around on him so that she can rub his legs and
a3 eo . feet as she rocks on him. he rubs her back with his spastic hands.

ee or all of a sudden, giggling he pulls her down beside him, facing away

sect, ing her body. all the while, his cock firmly rubs against her butt.

rey res

See ty st

: Pgh Pe she turns toward him, taking him in her arms, wrapping her legs °;, ---
fae 3 ty hs .. ground him, pulling him close deep within their cuddling cocoon, BRE
a ee TR "to talk about how they can always be together in their small, 3
. = er es . warm world. a % these, sean eet. geese ee a

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POEM UPON RETURNING

recently took a ten

day vacation in the
Portland-Salem area

of Oregon.

while there, away from
this machine, | had no
desire to write,

and this struck

me as odd,

usually away from

this machine |

get

poem ideas,

little thoughts,

or lines.

this made me wonder if
my writing was somehow
connected to this
machine this
apartment or this town,
the heat of it

the simple slow

way of life.

maybe | took

a vacation as a

writer as well

as a person.

this has me wondering
what, if anything,
would happen if |

moved up there as | have

planned on doing. |
suppose that soon after
| would begin

writing again, and though

my writing may change
with the scenery it

probably wouldn’t get any

better, it might
even get worse.

Mark Begley
Fresno, California

UNTITLED

have one friend
into the power

and scope of

God,

one who’s

passion is
photography,

one is a music

nut and very much
in love

with his

girlfriend.

me...

| really have
nothing to occupy
my mind

nothing to fill
empty spaces of time,
| tap these keys
on

occasion and

kid myself that
something is happening
if just a small
something.

Mark Begley
Fresno, California

Seg

7/25/94
Hello Frank Moore,

Got your letter today, thanks

for taking the poems UNTITLED and
POEM UPON RETURNING. Glad I
F-Xo) Mj el-yeeM rome omm Celeb a-Colel-jo) betel =
comes same day as two rejections,
about the right ratio, or at least con-
sistent for me. Last acceptance by
WORMWOOD REVIEW and just
about creamed in my poetry jeans
over it.

Also wanted to say thanks for the
speedy reply and the extra shit ya
sent. I can always tell the humans
from the shits in the poetry scene.
HUMANS: reply quickly, personally,
kindly and send free stuff along.
SHITS: reply slowly, impersonally
and rudely. So thank god there is
hee) MeK-yumenbbest-beMet-hes(-(o Ml we-nel. wl) Kolo) g-)
on the scene.

Well hell thanks again, look
forward to gettin’ the mag.

‘Stay free,
Mark Begley

0

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“ SCANNENG UNDRRGROWD. POETS”
CONVENTION SINK
ORSARNS ar POET ono FS CSNR
SOREN BY PC
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Paul Weinman

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Coleccidn “Paparo” Edicion de autor
Consta de 290 epmperes. Se
en la imprenta Suarez. Cuba. 199

PROLOG PODLOEGAOLE)
RUCK MISC

The ceiling the light the walls
the ugly wallpaper like pictures
drawn in skulls martians frozen
that somehow smile onus ©
benevolently all shred scraps

of paper the present unwrapped

00.
ON

7)
n

fe

€

of my screams that reach out

to lay cold shadows on the neighbor’s
empty pillows but you only you

can see that my screams

are white long fibers of light

from your eyes reach down my throat
performing within me the echo

of my scream dance all all

that we believed to be normal

and true was the thin skin

and we have torn it we

like SO many rats with fuck music
led away we at this instant

as the currents rocket through me
are sparks in the unknown pearls
from an endless ribbon leaping out
we are free we are burning

fire of life unconquered unafraid

Ericka Slayer

(eo) OKO 2PDOOMOEGPOOADAs PARMA OL, Aa QapcBaoesINqaOeek
e)

SENSIBLE, BUEN

psi cano |S UG

PERO TODO ESTA
2 ede MARCADO POR...

5 § @ Grono..
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Rolit CO LPHE Soma Oicyfro

Lermind de Impramar
Ss.

over your shoulder by the hungry fingers

have charmed our daily consciousness

L3 wre Ri y)) foe a
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>< ry ) af
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SC
JPUNAN BO ans Sehvotaaa

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apradeceréa aualquier donacica

in Valdes Montalvan. C. Habana. 1972. Direc. San joe
ee Remedios y Quiroga. 10 de Octubre. C.rt. ta: 994496
Enrique de] Rasco (Enrisco)C. Habana. 1967, Direc. Calle 66
#1Fi4 e/ AF y 19. Playa CH. tel: 293112

(OOK OLA (0 Oc COZOG ONO
CPs

hese autores Cn Moned&@ o Lata

china asi como mensajes de apoyo o craticas inteligentes..
wg Gracias.

we

ro Ont rQueL MAGICO LAZ0 SEWAL QUE PARE. ad
O bs INDESTRUCTIBLE MIENTRAS HUBIESE < P {
. e,°e ° ; CACION Sage Ay ppt GN EL MUNDO TWUVo ) a \
Composition in Late Autumn Ko SRS coi Tobe Poe uN ceuce. Mig
RECCION AUPITI VA. PAShMos DIAG DE ©

. CATT ele INTRASC ENDEN CiAS, bE . ~
7 dearest darling cut thru my thoughts “ ca Ves ; Lass } ) Sy
c beyond cherotic license ee CRP UT) ct
3 a place finite Y | arene Oe
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f where everybody is a STAR
i and every thing

1S an open secret. Za, nuniscuilse
- DOs Vv nS EN
Bio YA ee
Bi D

BARI...

speak to me in the most

quiet of places

i need the comfort of yur NO noise
yur pur fect ecletic

soft/ soft whispers

of unbabylon

OAM DRA

HACE SUS MESES QUE
YOANDRA CAMBIO SU
TELEFONO. DISPE EN
TONCES No HE VUE

~/

A SER & Mismo. ME

a Xe [\ steno iNCAPAZ. DE
\ SATISFACER A
Cm MUJER INCLUSO POR
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WE /MEDIOS Da
CONNENCWNA Y

Y Ce

yur hands on my face.

Pure delight of the bright dawn
as so many coloured leaves
fractures the tense brilliance

SOW A UGCES

of your grey blue eyes llamo Gl 114 Yu
and becomes 7 MU ©) C
my constant catechism. Cuor / d &

: TOTVUG 00 \

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r :
Rh J [i. : oe

Barco de ideas Z /AttS. Calle 19 #1362 As 15 0/24 y
Vedado. @. Habana. Cuba 0.P. 10400

X
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There is an incredible softeness
in the heart of your movements
a tai chi of the mind:

We touch fingers
and watch the world change

out into

the pure light

of leaves spinning on pavement
as another star

fades quietly

into the white.

(? e ea ’ /
BANCO DE IDEAS &,
Calle 19 No.1262 apto.15 e/ 24 y 26. Vedado
HABANA 4 CP. 10400 CUBA Talf. 3 7327
email: ideasz@tinored. cu
ey

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A

cherotic magic

A MAJOR ATTEMPT TO INTRODUCE A
POWERFUL SYSTEM OF MAGIC INTO
OUR MODERN WESTERN EVERYDAY
LIFE, THEREB Y EXPLOSIVELY
EXPANDING SUCH CONCEPTS

AS SEX, HUMAN RELATIONSHIPS. THE
CLEAR, DOWN-TO-EARTH TEXT IS
AMPLIFIED BY THE NON-LINEAR
TRANCE ILLUSTRATIONS BY
LABASH.

published 1990

out of isolation

<>

THE PROSE POEM ON WHICH THE VIDEO
out of isolation IS BASED.
published 1985

Ne sf) :
TaA>

oy AN < 7 | S
PNT ee Nee Ce ow
ro fiona? =
ly RY: =
)vorumMeE 1y*,-
= ei su: ae) Oe

a. oc A !

O

al
i—_

Aik

REV
“ae?
eS

TC(r) #1, january 1992 &>

POEMS BY KAREN FINLEY, NONI
HOWARD, TRACY MOSTOVOY, FRANK
MOORE, JACK FOLEY AND JESSE BEAGLE
ARTWORK BY LABASH ¢ PHOTOS BY
TRACY MOSTOVOY AND ERIC KROLL
CARTOON BY WILL OF THE WISP

TC(r) ISSN 1083-8872

cB

art of 2 shaman

IN art of a shaman, ORIGINALLY A
LECTURE PRESENTED AT N.Y.U., FRANK
MOORE EXPLORES PERFORMANCE AND
ART IN GENERAL TERMS OF THEM
BEING A MAGICAL WAY TO EFFECT
CHANGE IN THE WORLD. HE LOOKS AT
PERFORMANCE AS AN ART OF MELTING
ACTION, RITUALISTIC, SHAMANISTIC
DOINGS/PLAYINGS. BY USING HIS
CAREER AND LIFE AS A “BASELINE”,
MOORE EXPLAINS THE DYNAMIC
PLAYING WITHIN THE CONTEXT OF
REALITY SHAPING. HE BRINGS IN
CONCEPTS FROM MODERN PHYSICS,
MYTHOLOGY, AND PSYCHOLOGY.
COVER BY LABASH.

published 199]

cultural subversion «>

PERSONAL, ANARCHICAL TECHNOLO-
GIES SUCH AS XEROGRAPHY, VCR,
FAXS, ETC., ARE EXAMINED IN cultural
subversion BY FRANK MOORE AS THE
MEANS BY WHICH ORDINARY PEOPLE
CAN TAKE BACK THE CONTROL OF
COMMUNICATIONS AND CREATIVITY
FROM THE CENTRAL POWER COMBINE.

published 1992
A GUIDE TO DOWN-TO-EARTH
SPIRITUALITY AS CHANNELLED BY

FRANK MOORE.
published 1987

art of living

TC(r) #2, july 1992

ESSAYS BY FRANK MOORE, CURTIS YORK

AND KYLE GRIFFITH « ARTWORK BY LEE
KAY, H.R. GIGER, PETER PETRISKO, JR.,

JOHN SEABURY AND LABASH + PHOTO BY

KEVIN RICE » POEM BY BARNABY
CHANCELLOR

<>

POEMS BY R. (DIXI) COHN, ANNIE
SPRINKLE, MERLE TOFER, JESSE BEAGLE
ESSAYS BY VERONICA VERA, LUNA
SANGUINE AND FRANK MOORE + PHOTOS
BY RICHARD SILVARNES, WINK VAN
KEMPEN, ROBERT MAPLETHORPE, ANNIE
SPRINKLE, MARC TRUNZ, AMY ARDREY
AND JAN DEEN » ARTWORK BY LABASH
AND JOHN SEABURY

TC(e) #3, april 1993

PRESENTS

reet
PRETOLTE RE
OUbitCTiOry OF
. M ERD -SWEN (ORIG Pe
VISION PLAY oa

(ose: Natt
F

aN? THE ULTIM ne
= SPIRITUAL -...
‘ee

CULTUKE. rank { \oure

vision theater

BY JAMES D. AUDLIN & FRANK MOORE

no tongue will live to speak/no ears will
yearn to hear IS A PLAY WRITTEN BY
JAMES D. AUDLIN (CHIEF DISTANT
EAGLE) AND DIRECTED IN 1994 BY FRANK
MOORE IN BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA.
VISION THEATER IS A BOOK MADE UP OF
THE DAILY E-MAIL CONVERSATIONS
BETWEEN FRANK AND JIM...BOTH AS
DIRECTOR AND PLAYWRIGHT AND AS
TWO SHAMANS ... OVER THE YEAR-PLUS
THAT IT TOOK FRANK TO PRODUCE/
DIRECT THE PLAY. IT IS AN IN-DEPTH
EXAMINATION OF THE BACKSTAGE
PROCESS OF DOING A SHAMANISTIC
DRAMA (OR ANY DRAMA FOR THAT
MATTER)...THE TRICKS, THE PITFALLS,
THE DYNAMICS...AND HOW EVERYDAY
LIFE AND THE MAGICALLY FRAMED
THEATER EFFECT EACH OTHER.
copyrighted 1994

«3 vs ey AM. as “
RCHERQOTIC 4

ep*

tT

a LVOLUTNOHAR

TC(e) #4, january 1994 &>

POEMS BY ANA CHRISTY, FRANK MOORE,
STEVEN KAUFFMAN, NONI HOWARD AND
ROBERT W. HOWINGTON +» SHORT STORY
BY CAROL A. QUEEN + ESSAYS BY TRACE
DE HAVEN, JAMES DAVID AUDLIN (CHIEF
DISTANT EAGLE), PROF. CURTIS AND
FRANK MOORE ¢ ARTWORK BY JOANNA
PETTIT, JOHN SEABURY AND LABASH
PHOTO BY NINA GLASER + PHOTOS OF
LINDA MONTANO BY ANNIE SPRINKLE

10
Te 5 by Frank Moore’s
Chero Company
body music
EXPLORING THE HUMAN BODY AS MUSICAL INSTRUMENT.
90 minutes
inter-rhythms

PRIMAL MUSIC CREATED FOR FRANK MOORE’S RITUAL PERFORMANCES.

90 minutes

nude. cave soundtrack
THE NONLINEAR ELECTRONIC MUSIC COMPOSED AND PERFORMED BY FRANK
MOORE FOR THE FEATURE LENGTH VIDEO. 110 minutes

rock of passion

THE SOUNDTRACK OF the outrageous horror show, FRANK THE ROCKSTAR SINGS HIS
HEART OUT, LITERALLY COVERING THE GREAT HITS OF ROCK, COUNTRY, AND
HEAVY METAL ... INCLUDING SUCH SMASHES AS i am woman,

i got you babe, AND hand of doom ...

trance rap

WRITTEN BY FRANK MOORE AND SUNG/CHANTED BY MICHAEL LABASH

WITH A BACKGROUND OF BODY MUSIC, trance rap IS AN AUDIO INTRODUCTION TO
CHEROTIC MAGIC COVERING SUCH SUBJECTS AS eroplay, the plot of fragmentation
AND magic art. ALSO INCLUDED IS THE POEM wrapping/rocking.

30 minutes

To order call or write:
Inter-Relations, P.0.Box 11445, Berkeley, CA 94712

(510) 526.7858
e-mail: fmoore@lanminds.com

TC(r) #5, may 1995

POEMS BY JESSE BEAGLE, AL CUNNINGHAM,
ROBERT W. HOWINGTON, GEORGE KAUFFMAN,
ANA CHRISTY, ANTLER, MOLLY HOLTZCHLAG
AND ELLIOTT ¢ ESSAYS BY FRANK MOORE,
JAMES D. AUDLIN (CHIEF DISTANT EAGLE) AND
PETER RIDEN * SHORT STORY BY BARBARA
SMITH ¢ REVIEW OF ANNIE SPRINKLE’S
PERFORMANCE BY FRANK MOORE + ARTWORK
BY LABASH ¢ CARTOONS BY T.R.MILLER.
PHOTOS BY PETER C. TURNER AND LINDA
MAC ¢ INTERVIEW WITH PAUL KRASSNER BY
FRANK MOORE.

i

fairy tales can come true

THIS IS A FILM ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS AND DISABILITY STARRING FRANK MOORE,
WHO HAS BEEN DISABLED SINCE BIRTH WITH CEREBRAL PALSY. IT IS A HUMOROUS,
YET REALISTIC LOOK AT HOW TO ESTABLISH RELATIONSHIPS BY CHANGING NEGA-
TIVE SELF IMAGE.

copyrighted 1981 35 minutes

erotic play

THIS VIDEO EXPLORES WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PEOPLE OF ALL TYPES AND AGES ARE
GIVEN A CHANCE TO RETURN TO BEING A KID AGAIN. A SIMPLE GAME OF DRESS-UP
BECOMES A POWERFUL METAPHOR FOR DROPPING TABOOS, RELEASING CREATIVE

EMOTION, AND FOR DRAMATIC CHANGE. AS A RESULT, AN INNOCENT EROTICISM IS
FOUND... AS WELL AS GETTING INTIMATE WITH 60 HUMANS.

copyrighted 1983 84 minutes

outrageous dream
A SURREAL, VISUAL POEM OF FOUND IMAGES.

copyrighted 1984 4] minutes

the nude cave
AN EROTIC, SURREALISTIC VIDEO DREAM THAT COMBINES NON LINEAR IMAGES

AND FRANK’S ORIGINAL MUSIC SCORE.
copyrighted 1984 J13 minutes

out of isolation

A SURREAL EROTIC EXAMINATION OF AN INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP OF NEED.
STARRING FRANK MOORE AND LINDA SIBIO.

copyrighted 1989 J05 minutes

the outrageous beauty revue
THIS RAW VIDEO DOCUMENTS THE TACKY, MUSICAL, OVER-THE-EDGE COMEDY RE-

VUE THAT FRANK CREATED, DIRECTED AND PERFORMED IN. THE SHOW RAN ON A
WEEKLY BASIS FOR THREE AND ONE HALF YEARS AT THE MABUHAY GARDENS IN
SAN FRANCISCO IN ADDITION TO A NUMBER OF OTHER NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
AND NEVADA PERFORMANCES. FRANK PERFORMED ALONG WITH THE THIRTY
PEOPLE WHO MADE UP HIS THEATRE GROUP, “the theatre of human melting.”
copyrighted 1980 approx. 30 minutes

chero collage

ATTEMPTS TO CAPTURE THE TRANCE STATE OF LIVE, SHAMANISTIC PERFORMANCE
COMBINING FOOTAGE OF SEVERAL OF chero company’s RITUALS INTO A REALITY-
WARPING VIDEO.

copyrighted 1992 27 minutes

the outrageous horror show
A LIVE CABARET SHOW THAT BREAKS THROUGH THE LIMITING TABOOS, THROUGH

MESSY NIGHTMARES, INTO THE DREAMS OF ALL POSSIBILITIES.
copyrighted 1992 32 minutes

HEB of Abb POSSIBILITIES

= http: //users.lanminds.com/~fmoore

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Chinese Mafia of the Cosmos by LaBash ' !

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©1996 CABASHY

REVIEWS

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary #6
1996

“When Frank Moore isn't organizing performances and workshops about
tribal sex magic, he’s producing this zine full of photographs, poetry, sto-
ries, psychedelia, and rants. Nice printing makes these photos really stand
out. We get some tranquil nudes from Eric Boutilier-Brown, erotic nudes
from Tony Ryan, and some playful nudes from blind photographer Flo
Fox. I enjoyed all the poems -- some erotic, some angry, some revealing
-- especially Frank's poem about open mike events. Also a page each from
H.R. Giger and T.R. Miller.”

R. Seth Friedman, Factsheet Five

“This is a 40 page, full-sized, b&w publication. For those of you who arent
already aware of Frank Moore and the wonderful work that he has done
over the past few decades, The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary is a great way

to become enlightened about him. Frank has a ‘disability that makes it
impossible for him to speak or to have control of his body movements. He
communicates by pointing at letters and words on a board that is attached
to his wheelchair. Despite these apparent limitations, Frank has authored
books, written numerous performance art pieces, performed on stage,
written/directed films, and created a community of people who work to
further his ideas.

Frank is particularly interested in the human body and the ways in which
people relate to themselves and each other. He has created numerous rit-
uals that involve ‘eroplay’ as a tool for breaking down barriers between its
participants. “Eroplay is a term that Frank coined in order to describe the
act of playful, non-sexual touching. This kind of ritual enables the par-
ticipants to reach a point beyond sexuality (it is similar in many ways to
rituals described in the Kama Sutra and other writings that strive to help
people reach a transcendent state through prolonged physical stimulation).

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary is a publication that is put together by Frank
and the people who share his vision. Every page is densely covered with
intricate, lovingly detailed illustrations, photos, and writings. Extremely
detailed line art by LaBash fills many of the pages. There are also some
beautiful photographs of nude images (not of the pornographic variety),
poems, stories, pen and ink sketches by H.R.Giger, and essays on sexu-
ality/the human body. You will want to read this publication from cover

to cover. The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary is obviously the product of people
who love what they do. Highly recommended.”

Mike Hovancsek, EIDOS Magazine, Volume 9, Number 4, issue 36, 1997

REVIEWS CONTINUED...
“ “We live in an age of whining people who think they are owed
something, who think they have the right to not be offended..:

Those are Frank Moore's own words as he simply sums up why anyone
should be doing any creative project. No bodies going to give you
anything, you got to build it for yourself. This issue has a beautiful cover
by John Seabury of two women at a crowning point. Layout, art, photos
and text are all supreme. For Frank Moores rants on free speech and
being sex positive send $5....”

Dr. Ducky DooLittle’s Hypnotic Releases, Catalog #2

“Frank's really outdone himself this time. What caught my attention are
all the great photos from Flo Fox, Tony Ryan, and Eric Boutilier-Brown.
I know these pics of nude women are supposed to be artistic and all,
but ‘scuse me while I say ‘woo woo!’ You also have H.R. Giger (!), elliott,
Ana Christy, Ericka Slayer, Paul Weinman, and Robert W. Howington
among others. Dont forget LaBash’s art on the back. That ‘Application
to Live in the South will probably piss some people off, but it’s still
funny. The layout really burns a streak up the mountain, but without
being overbearing like some of those slick craprags. As much fun to
look at as it is to read.”

Bleeding Velvet Octopus #6

“One of the best layouts around offering up some fiction by Charles
Chaim Wax, a ton of clothing optional photography that is artistically
presented, not porno, a little poetry, a hysterical application to live in the
south, info on SF’s 848 Community Space that sounds a bit like ABC No
Rio but more of an artist community, a story by Elmira, NY’s Dr. Bryan
D. Reddlick, H.R. Giger pictures, a transcription of an open mic rant by
frank moore, and some art by LaBash that titillates. $5 and worth it.’
The Flashing Astonisher, Fall Issue #8

“Frank Moore, with Linda Mac have now come out with #6 and it's

as thick and big as The Afhliate. Our friend Al Cunningham (a more
favorable Cunningham) is making the page of TC(r) with thoughts we
did pass along in The Afhliate. Tony Ryans B&W pictorial is a treat.
Beautiful women presented with class. Much in.”

The Afhliate, December 1996

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Frank Moore and Friends’ TC(r) is a sexual/mind/body/spiritual
freedom zine with a psychedelic, free love feel to it. Different mediums
employed are prose and verse writings, photography, and lots of
illustrations, many of which were created by LaBash, who was so
generous as to contribute visual material to this issue of OPEN FORUM.
Frank, too, is in here. Thanks a lot guys, I deeply appreciate it!

One theme that is addressed throughout TC(r) is the problem of there
being practically no true diversity in society, consequently, there is an
urgent need for nonconformist action. A good example of how some of
the visual imagery and word artists in TC(r) think on this problem is
George Kauffman’s short poem, Madness Manifesto, he writes, “Nobody
is mad anymore. Everybody is certified sane. And, “Madness comes to
those who want it...Go mad and save the world!’ He also relates that
the so-called ‘sane are the ones who have created suffering, wars, and
early death for millions. Yes, the so-called ‘sane, the Masters and their
obedient sheep-like herds, are in fact insane, and many who are labeled
eccentric, mentally ill and insane are in fact sane. Dare to be different,
dare to be insane!

Some other stimulating treats: On the front cover there is an attention-
grabbing drawing of a pair of Siamese twins making love. Flo Fox's penis
photos. Tony Ryans photography, one photo shows a nude female with
creamy white ice-cream dripping on and down her breasts, tummy,

and between her legs. Anarchist Unru Lee's essay on ‘pleasure activism
versus class war activism, he promotes a combination of both, includes
some words from Henry Miller, who in 1966 said that sex lib, “..should
only be one aspect of a movement toward much larger freedom, to think
and act freely and creatively, in every domain!’ HR Giger'’s pen & ink
sketches of females getting gang-banged by monkish males, the sketches
remind me of the education of Justine. Frank’s A Rant On An Open
Mike where he “...goes after the nice people who never asked where

the trains were going, boxcars filled with people...after the nice people
who keep going to work after seeing their friends missing, after hearing
rumors of blacklist and blackball..’ And lots, lots more!

TC(r) encourages one to experiment and expand one’s consciousness
and parameters of reality, also to be playful and kind, which doesn't
mean being a pushover, quite the contrary - be assertive and live your
life as YOU deem fit!”

OPEN FORUM #12, December 1996

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“This zine combines photography, excellent drawings, poetry and short
stories to create a pulsing, shimmering, emotionally charged whole. It
includes a catalog of all offerings audio visual and literary. Pages are
big and copies are clear, it's about 50 pages. Artists and writers include
Frank Moore, Janet Kuypers, LaBash, Eric Boutilier-Brown, and Ana
Christy. Visit their web site.”

Crimson Leer, 4th issue

“The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary is an irregularly published, very
underground, independent, alt.culture (art & lit) zine. Each issue is
always jammed with unique, mind-expanding, consciousness-raising
material. TC(r)#6 is no exception.

Publisher/Editor Frank Moore is a self-described “cultural outlaw”
who says, “It’s flattering to think my voice is a subversive weapon’.
Moore explains: TC(r) “is a xeroxed, black and white zine about ‘the
edge’ for and by poeple on the edge...published irregularly...We dont
sell subscriptions, to avoid tying ourselves down to a rigid publication
schedule or magazine size. We want to remain free....

This issue includes illustrations, poems, photographs, artwork, cartoons,
commentary, reviews, country song lyrics, a poem called “Fuck Music”
and lots more. We especially liked George Kauffman’s “Madness
Manifesto, 1996”; Beast Quarterly’s “Application To Live In The South’;
Tony Ryan's, Flo Fox's and Eric Boutilier-Brownss erotic photographs;
Jesse's Blues, a poem about Jesse Helms by Elliott and Al Cunninghams
poem about loneliness.

TC(r) also sells his books, videos and audio tapes on a variety of
specialized subjects like: the human body as a musical instrument,
primal music for ritual performances, trance rap, erotic play (eroplay),
the nude cave, over-the-edge comedy, human need, cultural subversion,
art of a shaman, art of living, vision theatre and much more.

Back issues of TC(r) are still available and letters of comment from
readers are “heartily encouraged.’

TC(r) will appeal to those seeking to discover a forum for the diverse
range of serious material constituting the contemporary cultural
underground. Most highly recommended.”

EIDOS Magazine, Volume 9, Number 3, 1997

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Vol. 1, #6. What a zine! The cover is incredible, a drawing of two nude
women kissing, ones arms bound behind getting her crotch rubbed by
the other, and they're melded/ blended/ conjoined at one breast. Yes,
this is for adults. The beautiful nude photography of Flo Fox, Tony Ryan
and Eric Boutilier Brown is showcased (and there’ an interesing bio of
Flo Fox in the section “Frankly Speaking”). There's an amusing short
story by Charles, “The Tincture of Holi Alkimy, that centers around a
building super/plumber with a unique immunity to electricity. “3.C”
(“one of a series of texts that accompany movements of the composition
for noise guitar’) by K. Atchley is hot, kinky, disgusting and psychedelic.
There are great poetry contributions as well: “Disease” (and the rant
“Sleepless Night”) by San Quentin resident Al, “their cuddling cocoon”
by Frank, George's “The Day,’ Anas “Lee's Unleaded Blues/Chicago,
South Side,’ Grasshopper’s “Monsters” and “The Mule” by David. Also
worth mentioning are the erotic pen and ink sketches by Giger. One
technical error that needs mentioning was the inclusion of an extra
page, doubles of pages one and two and 37 and 38 (I would have praised
a double of one of the photography pages! Hot stuff!). This was a pretty
wild ride [DL].

Amusing Yourself to Death #3

- rd AF e eo.
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Poa. 9 geiet:
929 Hp Gileavies:
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ISSN 1083-8872

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary
is a zine about “the edge” for
and by people on the edge.

TO(r) is published by Inter-
Relations. The publishers/editors
are Frank Moore and Linda Mac,
the art editor is Michael LaBash,
and the circulation manager is
Alexi Malenky.

The price for this issue is
$5.00 per copy. We don’t sell
subscriptions, to avoid tying
ourselves down to a rigid publi-
cation schedule or magazine
size. We want to remain free to
publish frequently or larger
issues at longer intervals and
adjust the price accordingly.

All material is copyrighted
1997 in the names of the individ-
ual authors/artists. Material by
Moore and LaBash may be
reprinted as is without advance permission - but please inquire before
reprinting material by the other contributors. Of course, we would like
copies of all reprints from the magazine, and we'd also like to see copies
of all reviews or comments on TC(r).

We heartily encourage letters of comment from readers and will answer
as many as we can. Please tell us if you don’t want us to print material
from your letter - otherwise we will assume it’s OK.

Please address all correspondence and orders for
magazines to:

Frank Moore, P.O. Box 11445, Berkeley CA 94712
e-mail: fmoore@lanminds.com
WorldWideWeb: http://www.eroplay.com

Sed ER) one

TCir)’s AD POLICY TO SUBMIT AN AD
Recently we have received several inquiries Send us a copy of your ad and aS.ASE. If
about how to buy ads in The Cherotic we accept it, we send you the rate for your
(r)Evolutionary. Although we are not actively
seeking such ads, we are not precluding
them either. However, we will judge whether
or not to accept an ad.

Mrs. &Mrs. Silver-Sprinkle

(photo by Brad Fowler)

ad ... and if we need anything from you such
as halftones, we will tell you. If we don't
accept it, we will send your ad back.

TCir) is a xeroxed, black and white zine that
is published irregularly ... if we are lucky,
twice a year. So it is not the place for fancy
color ads or for ads with time deadlines. On
the other hand, TCir) magically finds its way
around the world.

Sliding scale: $10-$50 per quarter of a
standard typing page. The scale slides
according to our whim.

factors which are unknown even to us.

Cover Painting by Frank Moore
Illustration by LaBash

oneal SL tet Oe Seth rem
with Artwork by José Garcia Montebravo

and LaBash

5 Shambolic Fragmentis by John Heetham
with Artwork by LaBash

RRR Re ROR ee eee EHO E Eee EEO RHEE HERE EH eee TEETER HEHE EH EERE EES EE TEETH EH ESE HEHE RHEE HEHEHE EE HH EHH EE EE EE HEHE
Reem mere ree tere eee EERE HEHE OEE SHEE HOHE SHER EH EEE SHEESH HEHE EES SE EEESS HSS EES ESO EES HE SEES HES HE SEES HE SHE SEH SES EHH SEES SEES

Hot Time at the Coffetable of History
. (the usual gag) by Brian Carpenter

If Jesus Had A Hat He Wouldn't Need A Halo
by Ana Christy |

like a ravaged Lenny Bruce by élliott
Possessed By Lenny by Kevin Sampsell
(with a letter from him)

PERRO eee ee eee HERR REE H ee EEE EEO EEO ET e ee Eee EEE HERE HEE EHH TEE HESHESHE SEES HEHE SEES EES HE SHH SHEE EES SESE ES EEES

Oxygen by Jodi Bloom
with Artwork by LaBash

ROR R Reem eee HEHEHE EOE E RHEE EEE HEHEHE HEHE EEE HEE EE HEHEHE EEE HESS EEE EES EEEHE SESH SEH EES EEEESEEEE HEHE HEHE EHH EEED

23. ~—s Try To Understand Eachother by Brian Viveros
Dancer by Robert L. Penick

Pe ee ee EERE E EH E EE HH HEHEHE RHEE EH EEE GET EEE HE HEHEHE HEE HEHEHE EEE EEE EEEEH HEHEHE EEE EEE EEE EEE E EE ES

25. = Mainstream Avant-Garde? by Frank Moore
with Illustration by LaBash
27 ‘Dear Linkmonster by Ray Heinrich
I Was A Stranger by George Kauffman
Oe ieee
with Artwork by Darren William Blunt

Pole-Vaulting The Gate of Desire by LaBash

Lope SBE

FREE TCir) COPIES

Because we are not actively looking for paid
ads, we do not give free copies to would-be
advertisers. But we encourage them to buy a
back issue or two. However, we do give you

HOW WE ACCEPT AN AD a free copy of the issue in which your ad

Our whim also is a big factor in accepting an appears.

ad. Another factor is the other contents of . 3;
the particular issue. And there may be other Frank Moore ——

November 12, 1993

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Friday, May 23, 1997

Help me! Please, anybody! Help me! They have tied me in the chair
in front of this computer ... ripped the modem from the wall so I
can't surf the Internet can't contact the E-Salon for help. They
say everything is ready to put this issue to bed ... except for this
column and my review of Tony Ryan's great photography book
of nudes. (Face it That review is just a cheap excuse to be able
to publish more of Ryan's beautiful work.) Is this any way to
treat the editor? They already have forced me to computer-
paint on the sexy photo of Heather (assumedly taken by Matt,
her mate) for the cover! (Got you to buy the zine, didn’t it? Don't
be embarrassed. It is natural.) Never fear ... you can see Heather
inside ... without my paint job!

But I don’t know why they bother with me! Look at the great goofy stuff LaBash drew
around my “painting.” And look at all the great artists and writers in this issue. Who
needs me? Sure. I can get the art world all upset by my “Mainstream Avante Garde?”. But
that is easy to do. It just fakes writing the obvious. But writing in your own blood, shit
and puke as John Fleethan, Elliott and Robert Penick do, or drawing with your own raw
nerve endings dipped in paranoia and/or sweet surrealism as Seabury, Rich, Blunt, Viveros
(special thanks to Les Bareny for turning us
on to B.V.), Bieri, Montebravo, and Fleming ;
do...well, I don’t hold a candle to them! I just | pl elia
hope they live long enough to do more art!

And that reminds me. Robert, you can die T he E my ‘e) lo a

now! Folks, people do all kinds of cheap

stunts to get into these pages. Robert said eaatell To aike at

he couldn't die until he made it into here. I

pictured the walking dead! I didn’t want f moore@lanminds.com
that karmal

Anyway, if you are a regular reader, you will meet some old friends. We could not include
all of the regulars because we want to introduce you fo new friends. The regulars who
aren't in this outing will be in the next ... which we hope will not take a year to get out!
(But; as I have said in past issues, we have a life filled with other things other than this
zine.) The regulars also appear in the channels we have created on our web site, THE
WEB OF ALL POSSIBILITIES, at http://www.eroplay.con ... channels like art galleries which
can include color ... and SOUNDS FROM THE UNDERGROUND which includes music, sound col-
lages, poetry readings, interviews, and whatever we/you create. If you are on the
Internet, visit us. But even if you are not on-line, send us stuff to put on the site ... we just
might use it!

Above I mentioned THE E-SALON. What that is, is a community which has developed via my
e-mail. It is a community of “artists” (whatever that is) of all kinds talking, sharing, plot-
ting together in a very deep freeing way. The pieces by Paul, Heather, Kara, Ray, Lob, Jodi,
and Brian all came from THE E-SALON, one way or another. If you want to join in the fun,
drop me an e-line to fmoore@lanminds.com. |

And don’t Annie and Kim look happy? Happy life together, gals!

Now for those who are thinking of starting your own zines, web sites, or whatever ...
please don’t get fooled by our “technical quality.” We just have an in-house graphic art
company. But all you need is good contents ... which money can’t buy. Good contents are
in you. So let’s see what you got!

Frank Moore
P.O. Box 11445

Berkeley, CA 94712

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(A CHAPTER FROM A LONGER STORY)

vy WGA FL22THAM

“I am the lowest of the low.” Babyland

..it was the frozen cryogenic amnion that must have burst upon my collapse. The winds of guns
turning on effluent life grasping hands of tortures and plastic tubing rhythmic regressive move-
ments of the most isolated Himalayas. Her, the dream form of grey, in watch tower skin. The
choking birth embankment fondles heaven’s waters that err ode the foundations from below. I
see leaves blowing across narrow roads opening with the speed of it now. There was, now that
I think about it, something of the nothing that must have come in me. The smears on all reflect-
ing matter slithered golden scales. The everything in my vision, “I’m sorry...”. | was walking so
near the bank. I..I guess I just slipped in walking, in that movement that defined my conscious
form; my self of selves. The dragons bear them witness, some saying, “mug the saints’.

Dope. Plastic bag lying on the floor. Insights into research: Hunger nacht. I straight need to
recover myself in the bathroom, ashore. Too afraid and shaken to stand up. She was legless in
the planes of logic growing pulsating with the bloom of approaching darker nations. I thought
I saw my father playing some psych unit drums in some village centuries ago. .. Twelve o'clock has
reached us. The birth holes of my eyes distinguished two female figures being let into the room.
Trance upon will. Have always been waiting paranoid under beating door. My consciousness is
strained like the ballerina on her last twenty horses legs. She took her body into the shower...”

My scales quiver the dragon asleep in his cage draped with her dress. My agoraphobia gam-
bles in the dark. While some thing somewhere feels the evenings blowing bulimia walks beneath
sanitation sun. Her palms the meat of the Sahara. My leper tongue sewn into a Mercedes-Benz
all for the shore fishing. I fell in pigtails from the grape and I now search only for a cold smile
in a warm hand. His introgressions go most often unconducted with only one shimmering
flame by which to remember home.

Your fundamental mother is a series of wires connecting steak to steak, grass to cow, falling
to sleeping. Or a strange solemn oration through ventriloquists hole in the night, whispers
crawling backwards. |

: We do not speak a real language. There is never a real moment. All existence is a possi-

bility, the flux of possibility:

All of my ancestors are made of salt. Upon my search for the Holy Grail I found a gun. The
words freedom and liberation only exist as ideas when their meanings don’t exist as realities.

Another spider crashes me down the elevator shaft. One shouldn't solve. larva en vulvus.
The furniture moved in buffalo shadows waxing and waning. The electrode terror drop of red
abyss burned through the floor. I hear everything crawling up my back. The space we absorb is
toxic. ..] thought there was someone here with me.. This is probably the shore that should end it.
The earth wheels are suspended in dying blasts that fall only to remove the subject. Woken by
police hands and cuts. The filthy violent bitch god in the lamb. The organ fugues of the digest-
ing ocean; the sea of calibration. The sun will rape the igloos. My nerves quiet and cold on ships
that dock in Cambodia’s nostrils. My guts do cleave the seas and skies. She tells me that I laugh
in my sleep. Perhaps I found enlightenment in the black-out last night in the wisdom pool
drowning quickly. Quinine soothes the system while other agents go to work in other tunnels
of mostly vibration. I walk through doorway beads into white sandbag rooms under smuggled

ape
Ke

(OF,
As
~

“

\x,
gue
dg |

Chinese AK-47’s behind my red-haired girl enclosed by burning torsos in long cafe rooms. |
now awake to girls banging on my windows or in my wrists. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember
fucking you last night. I only know, and so telepathically, that your pale naked body was carried
in by red spiders.

Running ghost saline stream held in the center of the air. And I don’t know the person who
wrote to me. When the cattle cries I turn him off; silenced by the solipsism blade. Undressed in
abstract postcard ports through the smears of after ground expanding meteorite mass.

The clairvoyant bone piercer declines justice in subway infrastructure. Bronchial orifices
become pyogenic by tomorrow. The horizon is the sublime fortress forgiving of every excess, of
hands, of tongue. I am speaking that man’s voice. Amphetamine green transgressions into the
saintly waters. I don’t know how happy I was once. I see the shade dividers papered screen. That
paste rubbed tarous onto one’s fingers and sucked slowly off into psychotropical gardens of the
eyes’ balconies. Into the system. “..ok. so watch it now, it’s gonna be like a good clean hit on the
head with a baseball bat.” I am the on-on-tolam! Last night I dreamt that I was going through
alien executions with my lost cat.

It is grinding beneath my feet. That childhood nap never did end. Rusty gates hanging between
old brick wall with large vines and hedges heaving over into the narrow paved alleyway. The cen-
tipede dreaming hemorrhages into perception. I will slip on deck frozen, all life seeping out. I
would only live to eat cake, as I feared.

I once said to be fed is the sin of demons in rabid chase on the vulture ladder to euphoria
only in something overall disgusting. And so with no dignity left in the road weary black ash of
the chest and thighs that lose themselves in children’s cries, “in submission we sing, in submis-
sion we do love to sing!’, and on and on they barked. I could not take it any more; I got out. I
departed from such sweet measurements against human affection, I writhe.

“With me’, she said, “no human disease may infest me. I am sanitation, I am worm. Thou's
worn slivers slit quiet still scapes of wall walking nights home, clinging to only some incandes-
cent thread. My fomenting willows only cry destroy the autocracy when the steam room moon
nights billow vision down on civilians. That maelstrom hunt of mine to restore my psychotic
cigarettes to my psychic mouth. I must urge myself on to her. On to Latin ropes. Only my com-
puter would burn tragically with me. Highways speeding frenzied mileage for me to lay my back
down; on it, into it...(the black and white morgue aquarium stares hard at my bloody pulled
spine sucking a hisss out from the very pool of rebirth and blood and piss).

I thought it was with me, that I couldn’t ever get comfortable, no parking lots flashing
around my spherical field of visual interpretation and representation. I thought you were a
memory curved way back for reevaluation. You can come back to me, just to check the life but
I go home again no further. Hesitation has been canceled, ruled obsolete. I do hear organs, a
blast from ... white sands of life.

What does reason reap? Bright blue of bhang in daylight. Taking down sugar as a last resort
to stay lucid. I can destroy, I am one. Fuck: the mass times weight soliciting palpable life. What
disgusting foreign hair do J find on myself tonight? Adhari gangs plagued the streets in deeper
areas of the city. Tribally adorned youths, twenty perhaps being their later midlife. Every
moment of their lives was in offense; they were perpetual vagrants, loiterers, homeless. They
were followed and bothered by cops all day, asking incessantly for change. Occasionally imitat-
ed by suburban hip kids the real punks were unmistakable; in smell, in look, in mannerism.

The attraction of retinas to external stimuli was rigid.
All extreme cases of sub-psychosis were
class- ified. Thus the war..
The rotting entrances to rooms I cannot find in this house I hear
what they heard. The terrorist
collapse of entire buildings
walls
blown off into the areas that only exist
in the pathological fear of the masses.
I suppose J am some kind of a lotus-eater, “ku ku ku.”
“I showed her the tree!” It climbed up to heaven without her.
She crawled back home on all fours.
Nothing
can be done.

The grey forms are archaic, ancestral. The winding milky ways of branches hangs down over
families of boiling lobster. THE FREQUENCY OF MY DREAMS HAS BEEN REACHED. O MY
DOPE, throw down your tresses of polyurethane bags, your forest smells bleaching rabbits
white.

“T’ve got a line on you,’ he tried to threaten me.

“Lines are for the sea,” I responded.

“Look, we know you had that thing in your apartment last night. We got flames up all
around the path in. So, man, whatcha know?”

“The pillars that awoke the clouds. Your mother only has one eye. ‘I’m frightened, child? is
what she always said to you. I can’t see with all these bells and alarms and crashing in my head.
‘Or is it all just an illusion?” I lost her now. Dreamt about Matahari, and clandestine Angor
Wats, the left hand life.”

The figures and the tags, the desecration of all physical industrial age manifestations. The
language is of the ground, the codes I see. The pyramid on the dollar dominates the masses with
his eye. You see? The connection is clear! O but, afternoons drag on. Like she left in the morn-
ing and the noon and thereafter we're crawling at the speed of an 8:00 departure flight over
Phoenix...Or was it Dahran? ““Copperdomes can’t sleep either’, I told her. “I couldn’t find a
woman who understood anything | said.” We absurd poor folk just writing letters to each other.
I'm the happiest when severely incoherent, today I fall asleep everywhere in not very good
spaces. Walls secrete moving dots that occasionally grow legs. Singing to me from their boom-
ing cars, “come down to the murder town.” And all metaphysical life is suspended by wires from
the ceiling. Cartesian systems shatter from the rumbling outside trying to get in and help me.
To sleep or to die, is the question. “...somnolent, tachycardic, vomiting...” Wait! You’ve got to
vote for president! We've all got to go to vote!”

“What do you mean vote?”

“The president is a..bitch-whore, or something...”

The water breaks on the other side of the forced door, I halfway torn from the wall. Brown
stucco courtyard in torchlight. Spanish sconces clicking mechanically around in circles. two
cuckoo clocks on either side. The cuckoo on the left had a rotten meatball shoved on it’s head.
I get so afraid when her eyes swing pendulums. | can’t stay awake any longer, hanging by a nail.
The light bulbs hurt my stomach, the life vests tear my esophagus. The birds have a nest right
above my windows. I must shoot them. I can no longer decipher when I am with someone else
and when I am alone. I think that I am alone, however, a good portion of the time.

“ah, so yeah I love that stuff.” The reeling trajectories spun through my head for several
minutes. I then woke somehow to ask her, “What the fuck were you talking about? No, never-
mind...”

“This is a very interesting place you have here. | like interesting places.” Some say the insects
hum their philosophies. I just take them back to my brown paper bag house. The beaches are
all crowded and gorgeous now, no terrorists to attack them at random. It’s such a beautiful city.
Nevertheless, I still cannot go outside. I’ve seen a lot of things moving lately. —No. Then some
guy took us outside for something. I was looking with total shivering paranoia at everything.
Black forms appear from the gently swaying bushes.

There’s a flute in the street, it won’t stop blowing and I forget how to walk. I can’t go see
anyone in the hospital now, like this. “Oh look, it’s a plane!” You won’t drive home in a daisy
now, would you? Indeed where is your home? There ain’t one for sale anywhere in the world.
Pray for money, one needs to, religiously. I just want for the teacup to go away when I set it
down. I want invisibility, terror. Restaurants that glowed bourgeois stoned scenario. “Hello, and
how are you tonight?”

Quite well, and yourself?” There was only a quiet grunt after that then she showed us to our
table, candles and all. “What a fabulous red tie to match your eyes.”

“I pocketed it yesterday. Was funny,” he laughed. I didn’t want to see his eyes. Just for a
moment I was so scared to see his eyes. What truth isn’t revealed in distraction? What uncom-
fortable stairways don’t slope in his confession? Of the world and it’s disease-ridden mud. Life
slapped on the buttock and shoved up the ass of earth, hemorrhaging the audience. “A glass of
ice water would suit me for the world, darling,” he said to her. “I would get my tongue up all
around her Neptune and shit, yo. What, you hanging out in the ceiling man? What up there, yo?
I’m losing time like dice man.”

“Who.. whose driving this hearse? These are extremely dangerous turns. I don’t know
where uoy take me, but don’t take my money.”

mT i les

a <u

\\

eo : AQARRAAAN

Aaah

Crh vccnabagertt®

}”

“Do you hear whhat I’m sayying now man? You whan to gt off theese bhuss now?

“Yes sir,.. yes sir..’, I grasp my side as it bled all out as if from a balloon. “‘You dirty me I
infect you.” Isn’t that what the Adahari’s say to the cops man? Yeah, yeah.. I see it, now..

“My superpowers escape me tonight. That is all, sir.”

The everything of a people came down through rocks. The ancestors swarming in low
tones overhead. My bat confessed it’s guilt to me, the sink reciprocated in tears. “What will I do
with the Polytechnical degree I all gots and stuff? Sheeit.”

“Mambos breaking my death with the escaped refugee in my heart. How are those other
shores for me but without me?— Cloud Nine just spilled it’s butter. Motherfucker. Heaven can
only afford the soresuckers. Rings on the drain should spell out our death in it’s waste charac-
ter. What terror? Who, do you hear me? Mammorous glands suck like quicksand reptila mud.

“T have now been bit, from this still bleeding wound, about twenty-nine koas now. The jus-
tice of retreat shall now spread. I read the rumors. It’s time for an Arabian Christmas! I want a
bag of dried Moksha ants, they take me right back into worship with her.”

Sitting on a large cushion, back against the window facing the street two floors above; nos-
trils loading out. It’s all running into parked cars upstairs. I came upholstered in gun having
been named injun.

“My nipple for a son’s ant! My nipple for a sun’s ant, Moksha,” he seemed to chant in my
direction as none of this conversation had been going on with each other. I didn’t know where
I was, nothing. The troops outside did nothing, nothing. I heard bicycles coming up from
behind us. The phone wasn’t ringing.

The batcaves are swinging : in tbe (u)en DOR-247 espzx : The feathers wore rust and rained
pigeon for state. Envelopes from congress. The shaking apparatus. All abuses are daily.
Marijuana is a trigger apropos of several uses daily including the time immediately after wak-
ing. I can only stare, no matter how close the machine gets to me. Oil stains either green or
brown on the fingers.

— Regression as found in marijuana:

-when adequate means have severely influenced the transformation of one into a purely
archetypal and archaic consciousness, when the drug has taken one into the universal pool of
consciousness-

In primitive times the collective human super-ego, which is something like the abstract
counterpart to the individual eye or super-ego, corresponding to the general intelligence of
humans at the time, was undeveloped to coincide with the early, undeveloped earth; no one
knew what to expect. All movement, all time given is spent in exploration. All does, at times,
seem to be teetering on the edge of human fragility.

I am holed up here, to be honest. I still leave to be out all day on most days, but I’ve just
not been talking with anyone or going to those places where I know people. But that must have
been hope tattooed on her stomach in today’s sun! The sun has been out so much lately. Today
is a holiday of some kind. Everyone talks about, excitedly.

Maya confronts four-dimensionally. Emotions can come so quickly. In these ages I am so
scared of beaches when I’m alone. I never would have imagined it would all end this way. What
can I do now? | can’t reach any of the women who have loved me. I wouldn’t want to reach any
of them anyway. All of my heroes have or had teeth rotten from vomiting. I’ve been so tearful-
ly alive on winter nights last year. Today I don’t know.

The night, or the early morning, was cold, but the days were summer and warm. One could
die from exposure in the nights though. That’s what woke me up. I had been laying on a bench
in what appeared to be a baseball field, near home plate and the bleachers. I had only two thin
shirts on, I was freezing. I wasn’t sure just where I was. I did not know the general area, of
course, I still had my wallet. No drugs inside of you. Mosquito bites all over my body. On the
way back home I encountered a school of lice, going home for the morning.

The primary sight is the forest opening on the wall, sunlight crashing onto the tops of high
trees as if through cathedral stained-glass windows. Sunny maidens hoeing in the farmland
ghetto nations. I hold on me the three tooth pyramid bite. My entire right lower back is discol-
ored and sore.

I did want to hit you.
I did want to hit you.
I did not want to hit you.

“.80, Third Arm Sciences was the sign above the door.”

“What?”, I asked, completely baffled by this statement.

“How long are you going to just sit there and claim that body? That’s what I’ve been want-
ing to ask you all night!” |

“baeicahbsbidsabiabsiascbaibciubas’, I said. It was strings of fluorescence above in some
public store. What shit. Seemed to happen to me often. I would come to, usually standing up
outside somewhere with friends, just a jolt and suddenly I’m with someone whose speaking
totally alien material with me. Random bits that orbit perpetually bizarre.

In amerika, where pieces of the fantastic illusion are bought and sold, Void will confront in
direct protest our delusions of self, of immortality, and order. We will not survive in this house,
amerika will crash into the death of self manipulation as like ants swarming to kill some form
inevitably. But those nations around us play such important parts in the destruction. It now
slowly rises in the festering rage of opposing countries on all sides. The fires will not keep the
mountain lions away tonight. One can start from a run and leap to go sailing down into the val-
leys and beds of earth. If you want to know what’s worthless than listen to the talk of most aver-
age people. I wait upon the chance meeting of myself with several variable agents to help out in
the worldwide cause of keeping the flow go of bags and money; the translucent undertow in the
flowery secret life-support-system rivers. But money is such an elastic and worthless form of
our agreed-upon stupidity that it was all very non-real antics coming from a party or class of
clowns, what shit. I give my funny bills to the kid no matter how old he is. Rosey-cheeked.

¢

— a

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S.WERI “96

S: BER “96

ANIMAL FANTASIES

Nl erotic fantasies by

Sally Miller
editor of Seasi Perepectives
Inchudes:

) a | a MN é x

22 Strathmore
Village Drive,
S. Setauket,

NY 11720

ATA &
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A conscious-expanding journal which supports:
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interactions between consenting individuals
without any interference from theofascist zealots
& government automatons... Tolerance...
Enlightenment... Empowerment of the
individual... You’ ll find: editorials, letters from
readers, stories, essays, poetry, artwork, reviews
& a directory. Sample copy: $10. Cash only to:

LIANOS, P.O.Box 8343, Athens (Omonia),
GR- 10010, Greece.

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removes his clothes,

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It’s like the old west old there
with kids with tech-9’s drawing down
but they are polite and hand back the
empty wallets to the subway riders on
the Avenue A line after cleaning them out
of cash and jewelery.
and even mother nature has turned bad assed
flooding the mid-west heating up the north
and hitting Japan with earthquakes
anyone out there remember the apocalypse?
does it come with thunder or the whimper
of a dying beast, a T-Rex
king of the kingdom or so he thought
until he got his ass reemed
or hers not to be sexist about extinction
and everyone laughs except those with AIDS
It can’t happen here as Zappa said; because I’ve
been checking it out baby and it can’t happen here.
because you have a swimming pool and you're white?
and my fnend got drunk and took it up the ass from
somebody but he can’t recall just who and he should be more
careful and we kiss and WE should be more careful
and there is this chick and she’s twenty years younger but
if we are all positive what the fuck difference does it
make in the end(end )
cause dead smells the same on all of us and that is
what makes us all the same that smell that fear that
you ain’t never gonna hear the ocean again, share a secret,
taste somebody elses’ salty tears and tell them it’s gonna be
alright. Maybe George Dowden is correct maybe I am a ravaged
Lenny Bruce
- élliott

Frank,

| enjoyed browsing the site. Like the unashamed feel of
it. Sometimes | find it’s more mature to be silly and
frank, and | think you know what | mean. I’m sending
along two poems and a story. Hope you can use one.

| can give you a bio info if you want.

Kevin Sampsell
Portland, Oregon
futuret@teleport. com

“7 POSSESSED BY LENNY?

My two year-old says about 50 words.
One of his favorites is
“Fuck”
or as he phrases it
“Ohhhh fuck”.
| think he may be possessed
by the spirit of Lenny Bruce
but of course |’m wrong.
It’s the spirit of Lenny’s cinematic double
Dustin Hoffman
and he’s not even dead yet.
SO now we've rented
Scent of a Woman
because it seems like
“Hooyahhhh!”
would be more fun for him to say
and we wouldn’t have to pay for an
exorcist to get Mr. Hoffman’s
undead spirit out
of our son.
— Kevin Sampsell

Hannah Dancing Il

‘Deguty
REALITY

A REVIEW OF TONY RYAN’S BOOK OF NUDE PHOTOGRAPHS BY FRANK MOORE

Reviewing a book of photographs is dicey. Why
don’t you just look at the four photos that we have
printed from Tony Ryan’s book, Beauty Reality? Then
look up the last issue of TC(r) in which we featured
Ryan’s work. Then, if you are on-line, go to his site
at: http://imalchemy.com/Tony.Ryan/ ... and feast on
his work. After you have done all of that you prob-
ably will be so hungry for his work that you will
want to buy the book for $30 ... and for another
$10, Tony will throw in a signed 8 by [0 inch print of
your choice mailed with the book. He is my kind of
a teddy bear of a guy!

If you look at his photos, why do | need to write
this review? Oh well, I’m writing this to justify my
getting the free copy of the beautiful book. A book
of beautiful bodies naked ... not just Hollywood
Playboy “beauty” ... people beauty ... men, couples
of both genders, mothers and children (can the dirty
minded cry child abuse?), mothers-about-to-be,
children (will the dirty minded cry child porn?) ...
and real living lusty women. The cocks-and-tits
counting “feminists” will be quick to point out it
is mostly nude beautiful women (and they don't
include the big women in that classification). Like
always, they miss the depth of the art. The nude
body in each of Tony’s photos is just the starting
point to reveal the “subject's” personality/spirit, to
explore relationships, and to dive into the magical
intimate altered reality of the shooting session ...
the special intimate reality created when artist and
model come together in art. The work is humanistic
(thus, truly feminist), completely erotic because it
is not limited by sex. Tony, as do |, admits to being
especially attracted to working with women, to
what he calls the special tension. In fact, he subtitles
the book, “Male Eye-Female Mind”. By doing so, he is
calling attention to the major and active role of the
female models in the creative process. But | think it

Self-portrait (Crabtree | 979)

can be applied to Tony himself ... because looking at
his pictures and reading his writings, | would say Tony
has a very developed feminine side in himself.

| met Tony on the Internet when | was searching
for erotic art that wasn’t legs-spread, beer-can-in-
the-ass-dildo-in-cunt-sucking-cock parody on sex
(such parodies have their place, but ...). And that is
where the world also met Tony. On the Internet is
where Tony broke out of the isolation that is felt by

most artists who do not do fashionable art, who do
not fit in, or who run afoul of the local art power
structure, and/or live in the boonies ... | think
Tasmania may be on the outskirts of the boonies
(but, judging from Tony’s photos, there are a lot of
interesting folks living on the outskirts!). Tony shows
that by putting your art directly out into the world,
you can by-pass all road blocks that the power
structures put in your way. This is another reason
why Tony’s art is so inspiring!

You can contact Tony at:
Email: Tony.Ryan @utas.edu.au
Or snailmail to:

C/- Grove Post Office

Grove, Tasmania

Australia 7109

http://imalchemy.com/Tony.Ryan/

A Couple (Crabtree | 986)

Hannah and Nellie (Crabtree January |994)

My sweet princess is now an evil dictator. At 36, she is
changed. Once content (I think) my wife has become a crazed
nymphomaniac, like a teenager minus the embarrassment.

Ahhh, you think, lucky man. But you are not listening. I
said crazed nymphomaniac-crying, wailing, begging to be fucked-
hysteria, perhaps in the old-fashioned sense. We do not talk or go
out. Our food is salty and I imagine her tears, buckets full of them,
drip-drip-dripping into the soup, a tangy new gravy for meat and
chicken.

Listen to this. Yesterday before work I found her in the
bathroom sobbing, painting her fingernails metallic blue. She
looked up at me, her pretty face forever now a grimace, the
twisted mouth and screwed-up eyes of orgasm, or despair.

"Fuck me more,” she said, "or I'm leaving."

Distressed beyond the humiliation of confessing these
7 strange and sudden troubles, I called up Ed, my oldest friend. "But
my wife never liked sex," I explained, recounting the excuses, some
of them as brilliant as a school kid with no book report.

"Hey," he said, "that's just the way women are, you know?"

And now my princess sweats, like some kind of charming
little beast. Dark circles tarnish the fabric of her lovely dresses,
stains that leave a sweet, pungent smell. I would protest, yet this is
the one thing that seems to delight her, her own intoxicating scent.
She lies on our bed for hours, naked and languorous, arm bent
above her head like a wing. Nose snug against her armpit, she
breathes deep, as if this new perfume were oxygen.

— Jodi Bloom
Jodi2000G@aol.com

. =D f JOHN RICH 4

“
a 7
ete

Hippies, vestigial remains of the Enlightenment
Hangin in the Haight.

Ten years after

The summer of love.

A psychedelic Renaissance

Connecting the Voodoo child, Dionysian

Myth, Hoffman, Owsley, and the Dead.

Fear and loathing on tour:

An American Agenda.

A Gratefully Deadicated Jester flashed a
Tarot Card,

And turned up the cool fool while
The Great Goat laughs.

Hippy Hill is quiet, yet the princess panics
And the Knight fights. Crystals, Incense
Black lights, strobes, Neon lights,

Crystal balls and even Gypsies

Could not predict that Ken Kesey

Still drives

His magic, psychedelic bus,

And still parks at the Pan Handle.

The poets sing:

We hear note by symbol, vowel, and blue.

Dylan, Broomberg, Hunter, and Johnson-
Roberts, mostly.

“Truckin’, Truckin’, Truckin’”,

Under the City Lights we walk.

In the mystery of the misty fog filled

F see Be , sare. Sie

San Francisco night. Condensation

Soaked sidewalks, alleys, lights form
Reflective grids where oil saturated puddles
Catch swirling colours

Like a

Phosphorescent psychedelic tie die.

She’s gorgeous
Her heel slips
Spiked,
Fishnets,
Black.
She dances in a leather miniskirt
And makes me watch. | stand.
Lips touch, embrace, caress, the Tarot;
The Queen of Hearts touches, embraces,
Caresses The Tower.
A crack in the pavement
Where a dandelion clings to life:
Leaves sharp, jagged.

Our, no my, utopian drug induced dream
Broken!

“You don’t seem to understand, boy;

| said, this is the DEA.”

Baton Rouged in Louisiana,

Too close to New Orleans.

The lunatic bum yelled:

“America’s procrustean oligarchy is growing.

Growing into a mighty heartless raptor

That flies off the bill and attacks its own
America.”

| am caught by the talon, the claws,
Incubus of prison walls that tear us apart.
The poppy took root in her heart;

We grow apart.

Bars blossom to freedom

And | get a parole officer, and

A bottle to pee in - the wiz quiz.

Free! Not quite free, but forced drug free.
Under the city lights we part.

She was like a transient cloud

Of fresh air. Images crystalize

In a moment, a fraction,
A transcendent fraction,
A frac....

She went south

| left the Golden Gate

Over the bay, down into the valley,

Over the Rockies, across the plains,

Past the mounds to stop in the shadow

Of the Brick Yard where the Eagle watches,
And Prometheus lives.

“The Eagle sees no reflection:

Horus Yin or Horus Yang?

What does its eye behold?

Fire holds no boundaries,

Out of flames born vengeance

And the Eagle pulls its arrows in peace time,
Aiming at its own.”

Another found my heart

But my carelessness, foolishness, and
Don’t give a damn attitude

Fed the Eagle. My life is in the

Belly of the raptor.

Industrial prison’s slave labor
Slaughters sacred cows
Good eats.
Hathor?

Can | ever hide from the Eagle?

No one can escape spy satellites, wiretaps,
Bugs, choppers cruisers preying,

And I’m beginning to hate

The ignorance of an internecine drug war.

“Silver Eagle on the Shore line

Let us be ?

Free and easy!”

| have forgotten the song, washed away.
Institutionalized.

The dong, the bell, the toll toils,

And the buzzer ringS SO we march

To the chow hall.

Today’s meal: Hathor burgers and fries.

Along the wall, behind the wall,
In the nest, the shadow of the Eagle
| walk.

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Envisioning a Circle?

by John Rich

Silence?
There is no silence.

Silence is a rumble,

a pounding, a rapping

A tapping, on concrete and steel.

My cranium thunders with the constant
Beat of the prison block.

The Eagle watches with arrows aimed.

It hates us all.

John Rich #910243
IDC-Westville CC
P.O Box 473
Westville, IN 46391

ee
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creativity...

as the years pass and the new millennium
approaches, fast and vibrant like a new hori-
zon on the peak of shining at us.. ideas and
dreams are being ignored with the ever press-
ing objective of today’s societies for
“progress”. Its obnoxious injection of the
“competitive nature” has come to pass as
being recognized as “normal” and is passed
from one generation to the next as if nothing
was wrong. It imposes the ideal that one
should live life under the guise of “being bet-
ter than everyone else”. This condition is flaw-
less in constructing a society of followers, &
non-thinking over-achievers, who will at any
moment become ruthless and cunning if it will
suit their needs. Strong warriors are being
developed with this formula...but warriors to
war with what? and whom? Now, this is not
to say that development of ones individual
power and strength is a BAD thing.. in fact,
quite the opposite... but it is not the ONLY
thing.. there is more to the strengthening of
a powerful person than just being “the win-
ner”... it comes from understanding and realizing the beauty of
experience and the vividness of its face.. to have the ability to
imagine and believe in that which you have imagined.. not with
the concept of “striking it rich’ but more with the ideal that “i
did this” and feeling pride for your own work and craftsman-
ship.. the natural “creative nature’ of our race that is being
shunned in the modern way of life. Creativity is the oldest
known belief, according to all known myths. It is that in which
the CODS themselves believed in. It is the purest essence of that
which empowered those very gods to BE what and who they
were (and are). In light of this, you would think there would be
an over emphasis on CREATIVE thinking in our societies, but
there is not. This needs to change if our world is to progress
into the new aeon with any hope of survival. It is the obvious
missing factor in the industrial minded world in which we live
today.

Thee Instagon Foundation (TIF) formed in 1993 with the
mission of being a creative alliance of artists working together
to enrich the planet with a more creative way of thinking... to
share ideals and projects, to work with each other in our artis-
tic approach to the interweaving of our art into the monster of
the media, and its audience. We believe in the power of creativ-
ity, and its divinity. Each individual is an artist, strong and wise
in their craft.. TIF attempts to create forums in which individ-
uals can interact with and experiment in, so that they might
find their unknown hidden talent and nurture it into a power
and strength, some are creative sculptures or musicians, oth-
ers creative in their methods of banking or teaching. This is the

HAPPEN)
FASTER
JHAN JHEE
SPEED OV
LIGHT...

CH tot TET eS Ln Oe OE
ereTeTe'e s e"ere"e'e ooo stetete"ee w e"e seo cee “etetetee"e'e"e"e"ere oo +.

way of the future for a strong society to
- exist. We must take wild notions into consid-
eration, as they are usually very powerful
and right on the nose of the problem. Ideas
happen faster than the speed of light. Thee
Instagon Foundation wants you to let your
ideas shine.. we encourage and want to
attempt to direct all interested parties in
directions that may lead to the development
of their individual creative dreams and
visions. We support all who come to become
involved and show a strong will to help us in
this dream. TIF, so far, with VERY little fund-
ing, has created many outlets for artists to
create in. We have our own record label, with
decent international distribution, a publishing
firm for small books, a free open submission
magazine called “THEE NEVERENDING PACE”,
published bi-annually, sponsor local poetry
readings and spoken word events, a web site,
radio programs, performance art, and the
list continues... in 1994 TIF joined forces with
its long time ally THEE TEMPLE OV PSYCHICK
YOUTH NA, and released the debut full length experimental CD
from “INSTACON”’, which has gained some wonderful reviews
world wide. JOPY and TIF are still very interactive today with
many projects in the works. In 1gg95 JIF joined the amazing
world of A.1.N., the Autonomous Individuals Network, an inter-
national directory for interesting projects happening world
wide, TIF serves as the “official” (whatever that is) node of A.1.N.
in the USA. We produce and distribute this directory in this
country. If you feel that this is something you are akin to, we
would love to hear from you.. but we are poor, we are artists,
so please include return postage, or you will probably not be
answered for a long time, you will be answered.. but it might
take awhile. or contact us via the internet at

http://www.tif.org/tif
or instagonenetcom.com

send all inquires to:

THE INSTACON FOUNDATION
PO Box 894

Huntington Beach, CA
92648-0894 usa

please include SASE or sufficient postage.

Be creative in your daily life.
Make stuff up.

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December 28, 1996

| suppose this is a review of sorts. Two things evoke this
review. First Martha Wilson of Franklin Furnace asked me to
comment on the Furnace’s plans. The second event was our
going to a Karen Finley reading (which cost $3 as opposed to
$30 for a Finley performance....which | could not afford).

| have to start by saying I consider both Wilson and Finley
powerful voices of the avant-garde. When other performance
galleries were making artists create “acts” that would fit into
‘avant-garde’ cabarets...fit in terms of both time and fashion-
able subject matter...Wilson at the Furnace was giving both
artists and the art absolute freedom to perform magic...until
THEY shut the Furnace down for “fire violations.” Karen and |
were among the artists who enjoyed this freedom.

In other reviews, | have likened Karen’s poetry to
Ginsberg’s, and her performances to Lenny Bruce’s in their
intensity and laser commentary on the social injustices. Her
poetry makes me cry. Her passions within her performances
have transported me into very deep states of reality.

So it is always tragic to see figures like these get sucked,
seduced, absorbed, tricked, bribed into “the mainstream.” It is

tragic not only in personal terms for the individual artists, but |

in terms of the big picture. When an artist sets herself up as
being an artist who goes beyond the normal frame, who tells
the hard truths, who explores the unknown...not to be hip, or
controversial, or to be interesting...but because that is how
our tribal human being evolves, so it has to be done...when
that kind of artist then goes after money, personal fame,
and/or glamour while still claiming to be doing avant-garde
art, it is denying society the real evolutionary function of the
real avant-garde. It tells people, audiences and artists alike,
that the avant-garde is just a branch of the entertainment
complex with the same rules, goals, reality as television, rock
music, Hollywood, and sports. This is like telling people a can
of Slim Fast is a balanced meal of real food. It is a lie. And the
scary dangerous thing is artists are buying/selling this lie.

MODE NK

Why am I on this rant? About a year or two ago, Wilson
sent out a mass mailing in which she defended art (maybe to
funders) as a profitable industry which pulls money, people,
and jobs into cities. (True...if you want to make a lot of
money, buy property where artists live/create now to sell to
the yuppies when they discover the area!) This logic is a very
steep, slippery slope indeed. The first glaring danger of this
commercialized logic is art, according to this logic, which is
not profitable or sellable is not and can not be successful
worthwhile art! (Hey, ain’t that the American way?) I am sure
Wilson does not believe this.

Although another mass mailing | received from her in
November (I have been mulling it over until now) makes me
wonder if she has fallen down that slope into believing the
lie. Avant-garde art is art that tells the truth, explores the
taboos, pushes the limits. Obviously this kind of art, if it is
honest, can not be focused outwardly. Historically, often “The
People’ (who are not the same thing as “the mainstream’)
have identified with the avant-garde because it was telling the
truth about their lives. The focus of the avant-garde should
always be on telling the truth, not on popularity polls and
bottom lines. The focus of the avant-garde has been, and
should be, on doing art that is as “pure” as possible...not on
mass media entertainment of reaching as many people as
possible by shaping “the product’ to that goal.

In her letter, Martha refers to the avant-garde art as “once
unpopular work...formerly at the non-profit fringe’...art that
Franklin Furnace, according to the letter, has groomed for 20
years to get it ready for the mainstream...and now “Franklin
Furnace is in a position to lead the avant-garde into the main-
stream...”. This hurts my head and heart. It is as if Martha
does not see her own historical contribution of giving daring
art a home. Instead, she tries to take credit for gravity and
decay. The mainstream entertainment, by it sheer mass, has
always sucked artists out of the fringe, the underground. That

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is just gravity. In reality, it takes a lot to enter, and to stay in,
the underground. The underground is where the real freedom
and the real ability to change society are to be found. This is
why artists CHOOSE the underground instead of the main-
stream. This is also why, when an artist is pulled into the
mainstream, this freedom and ability decay. In my own
career, | have worked very hard to stay in the under-
ground...this work has been hard precisely because some of
the pieces have turned out to be “popular” (whatever that
means))...attracting the mainstream sharks.

The mainstream has always tried to create a fake avant-
garde with fake controversies, fake taboos, fake “hipness,” etc.
to give the marks a controlled fun-ride through a Disneyland
to keep them away from the real edge of life. This is because
the powers-that-be can not control or exploit what is in the
real avant-garde.

All of this is business as usual...and doesn’t scare me.

What does scare me is that someone like Martha bought
into it and is becoming a producer of it! Her letter read like a
bad Saturday Night Live skit. She is selling Franklin Furnace to
get money to match a $100,000 n.e.a. challenge grant. With
this money, and by teaming up with the corporate and media
America, Franklin Furnace will be a “content provider for new
media’ that sniffs out “emerging alternative artists.” (Emerging
from where to where? Alternative to what?) These artists and
their art must be suitable to be packaged as “alternative com-
edy (a.k.a. performance art.)” The letter tells us this new alter-
native comedy will be “funny, yet provocative.” There will be a
half-hour t.v. show of this. Plus they will produce short pieces
to be aired ‘through’ Saturday Night Live (as if that show has
been cutting edge, or even funny, in the past 15 years) and
MTV (with its history of censorship)! Moreover they are seek-
ing other ways of giving “audiences a glimpse of the avant-
garde world’ (whatever the hell that is!) “in an entertaining
and easily consumable fashion’...like avant-garde artist trad-
ing cards...funded by Philip Morris Companies!

The marketing phrase “alternative comedy (a.k.a. perfor-
mance art)’ is very damaging to performance art because it
trivializes art. In fact it avoids ‘art’ all together, selling “alterna-
tive comedy’ as a weird, consumable form of entertainment
which will give you a laugh for your buck. This is not what
performance art is. Performance art is the performing/doing/
experiencing the act of art. It is going on a physical journey
into the unlimited realm of art. Sometimes this journey may
be funny or entertaining. But these are not the true goals or
rewards. The suggestion (promotion) that these are the
rewards of art results in denying people, including the artists,
the real full freeing experience of art.

All of this is selling the art, the artists, and the audience
way short. | am not questioning Martha’s personal com-
mitment to the real avant-garde art. But realistically
such art can not exist in such an environment
that she is envisioning. Moreover it is misunder-
standing the new media such as the internet and

zines. In these media, artists can relate to their audiences
directly without middlemen, without compromises, without
limiting concepts such as “mainstream’...all for very little
money...so why sell out?

But this concept of “alternative comedy’ is disturbing. |
guess the Karen Finley reading was an example of alternative
comedy. She read from her parody of Martha Stewart (why
bother?) which she obviously wrote just to fulfill a book deal.
The reading was empty schtick, a passionless exercise in clev-
erness with no content or message. The audience responded
with reflex laughter, like a laugh track. The problem was
Karen was trying to be an entertainer, a comedian. Karen is
not a comedian or entertainer. That is not her function. Her
function is to inspire, confront, transmute...to tell the truth

‘with passion. That is why people come to her. When she does

not do that, the people are not fulfilled. When she ended her
act, the people just sat there numb. Then | asked Karen to
read her very deep, very moving poem “Black Sheep’... | just
happened to have a copy of it with me. As she read it, magic,
life, and power started flowing through her body and out into
the audience, uplifting them. When she finished reading, peo-
ple stood up and clapped...because this was why they came.
Oh, by the way, do you consider yourself mainstream?
Do you want to be?

COOSeS
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Subject: Re: You URL submission was rejected
Date: Mon, 10 Feb 1997 03:08:58-0500
From: “Ray Heinrich” <ray@scribbledyne.com>
Organization: Scribbledyne Corp - Word Biscuit Division
To: info@linkmonster. corn

CC: fmoore@LanMinds.Com, ray@scribbledyne.com

> Linkmonster Link Rejection Notification
>
> Your link: http://www.eroplay.com was rejected for the following reason:

>
> Link submission contained questionable language and/or subject matter.

>

dear linkmonster:

your love of gray

> We do thank you for your submission. We wish you luck with your next submission.
is not
like the interesting love

> '
= Wat = Ze
ogee
of death

>Linkmonster
of life 2 SSe9 ’

of skin

rubbing against

the skin of all of us

so what do you want?
$5 T-shirts

to buy?

to tell our children

we came from Walmart
to deny

our cunts and cocks?

i take my clothes

in the morning

with my mate

of twenty-five years

and we throw them

in your general direction
and notice

as they touch you

the warmth

you have refused

° (TALES From 157 Ave. ins BELLTOWN —.
Late FRipay NIGHT/ EARLY SATURDAY A.M. IN AN
ALLEY BEHIND ONE oF SEATTLE More Posi’
AWD EXCRUCIATINGLY TREND-01D RESTAURANTS
LOCAL STOCK ‘Power’ BROKER AND YUPPIE “EX-
TRAORDINAIRE', LYDIA INDEX, LIELL INTO HER
CUPS AND OVERWROUGHT UiITH ANGST AND
Ly A
FEELINGS OF GUILT PER CLASS, STATUS '%p
EXPLOITATION, SOLICITS THE SeRviceS oF A
TRANSIENT Rustic’ FROM SHELTON, WA., NAME
°F 'QLie’ ano Has Him Teach HER How 4s
'Do-" Hog-CALLING” & ta THE Movie -Bwok

‘DeLiveRance ” . AFTER THIS THERAFEUTIC
SESSION, SHE WRITES A CHECK FAND GETS "ON

WITH LIFE , RELIEVED Ter AWHILE.).. TDEq inspRAD ©

Biothing (short version):
Ray is an ex-Texas technofreak and hippie-
socialist wannabe. He writes poems for thrills
and attention, likes dogs, and owns a blue
fish. Write to him at: ray@scribbledyne.com
http://www.vais.net/~heinrich/wb/

By Personal AD’
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@).

Subject: ASKANCE UPDATE
Date: 21 Nov 1996 12:04:11 GMT
From: Paul_Couillard@intacc.web.net (Paul Couillard)
Organization: Matrix Arts Network
To: fmoore@lanminds.com

It’s a ‘slow Wednesday afternoon at ASKANCE, the temporary trans-
formative playhouse/radical faerie hangout I've made for myself in
downtown Toronto, so I thought I'd write a little update on how things
have been going.

Perhaps I should start by telling you a bit about the piece I did at
the end of October as part of Rencontre Performance, an internation-
al festival of performance art that my non-profit group (FADO) orga-
nized/hosted (15 artists from around the world including Mexico, the
UK, Finland, Hungary, Romania, Lithuania, Japan and Korea). I did my
first ‘street piece’, LULL, spending
6 hours in various locations along
Queen Street (the artsy strip of
Toronto) in my newspapier mache
outfit (underwear, socks, boots,
pants, sweatshirt, double-collared
jacket, gloves and hat all done up
with newspaper), rocking in my
newspapier macheed folding rock-
er. For this piece I didn’t want to
speak, just present the image of
me, rocking on the street (I've
always rocked back and forth, as
long as I can remember). I did
have a piece of chalk that I put
an ‘x at each location that I
rocked and then wrote one word
that described the experience in
that spot, though. It was great —
lots of people stopped by to ask
me ‘what I was protesting’, or to
call me ‘newspaper man’, or just
to find out what it was all about.
The goth girl from the goth bar
across the street came down in
her nightdress and had coffee on
the steps of her building beside
me. Someone else brought me a
little gift of trail mix which she
wrapped up in newspaper before
giving it to me. One guy tried to
give me money. Lots of people ended up coming to the evening per-
formances as a result of seeing me on the street. Frank Moore talks
about how there are ‘magical’ spots where people just come to you,
and other spots, maybe even only inches away, where you will be
totally ignored, and I discovered the same thing. In general, the vibes
becamse more ‘threatened’ and hostile as I moved east into the city
core, towards Bay Street (our equivalent of Wall Street), though I did
get some positive reactions at City Hall.

Anyways, it was great and I learned a lot. It made me want to do
more of this kind of public work, though I think I'd like to work in
more possibilities for interaction with people in the future (I think
that’s really where this kind of form offers the most), and Ill probably
wait until the weather is a little more sympathetic, since it’s now close

to winter and we've had several little snowfalls (none lasting, though).

From the intense experience of this three-day festival, I jumped
into my next project, a month-long series of performance actions
called ASKANCE. I've set up a giant playroom in a performance space
called Symptom Hall (for you SF types, it’s kinda like 848 without the
sex — though we're changing that a bit, too...). The main space has
been set up with a wonderfully evocative installation. To enter, you
have to pass through a ‘stiletto curtain’ of high heels, pumps, cowboy
boots and tiger slippers that have been treated with glitter where the
scuff marks were. Inside, you find a 6 x 8 foot floating pond, a blue
bubble-wrapped ‘stairway to know-where’, the beautiful rock I dug
from six feet under this summer when I was making a new outhouse
hole at the farm where we do our faerie gatherings, a quilting loom
where my friend Jules is set up every day for ‘stitch and bitch’ sessions
(the quilt will be auctioned off at the end of the month to raise funds
for DRAGHEAD, the faerie maga-
zette [that’s ‘zette, not ‘zine] he
edits), a comfortable living room
set on the stage that graces one
end of the space, lots of pink and
purple tulle, and, of course, the
tent with the computer (set up
with e-list material from the
faerie list — and an adventurous
hacker would quickly find Frank’s
e-list as well...) from which I'm
writing this. There’s also a faerie
library in a suitcase that includes
some pretty tangential info (like
Annie Sprinkle’s Post Porn
Modernist book, and Frank
Moore's the Cherotic [R]evolu-
tionary zine as well as various
faerie zines, gathering calls, etc.).
I've even colonized the side
rooms. The full kitchen is a big
centre of activity, but there’s also
a large well-stocked drag room
(what fun to get the straight boys
dressed up at the opening night
party), an altar room with peat
moss and wood chip floor, a hall-
way of ‘faerie sounds’ that
includes extensive bits of my writ-
ing about the faeries in prep for
this show in grafitti style on the
wall and a broken-down piano board that can be used for jamming, a
goddess bath room, and occasional temporal objects/spaces like the
spice painting I made at my first twelve-hour ritual (whirling snakes,
burming faggots, and a lusty face), now just a mound on a plate that
rests by the pond — it smelled amazing in here— or the ‘campfire’ of
rocks and sterno candles that we used for last weekend's slumber party
(A Story Story Night). The space has many doorways that are adorned
with fetish objects — rubber gloves, a whistle, a necklace, a tiny holy
water fount, an animal skull, sunglasses, rubber snakes, a hockey jock
(with sock snaps like a garter belt) — and the tech room has been
posted over with a ‘police line do not cross’ ribbon that turns to reveal
one of the many wiccan chants the faeries use: the earth the water the
fire the rain returns retums returns retums...

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The people who run the space are amazed at the transformations
weve effected, and the atmosphere of almost decadent comfort we've
created (everyone who comes through wants to either move in or rent
the space themselves for their shows!). We did a total physical and
psychic strip-down of the place, including painting the walls, scrub-
bing every surface, and cleansing the remaining negative vibes
(including some lingering confused spirit energies) from when the
place had a reputation as a rave club and before when it was a
Lithuanian community centre. The ‘performance schedule’ is a little
demanding — Saturday Night slumber parties from 9 pm to 9 am (first
weekend was an opening party followed by ‘bedtime reading’; last
weekend was ‘a story story night’ — our final slumber party this week-
end is ‘pillow talk’), Sunday Teas (first weekend ‘ceremonial tea’, last
weekend ‘high tea’ [we're still eating the leftover veggie pates, humus
and baba ganouj I made for it, plus, of course, Jules’ gingerbread

enises] — this weekend, the |.
fal om, wil be a wed Mal ence
. * He Sanne
Hatter Tea, hats required), Ye,
Tuesday all-day performance ntu- if aA WS
als (the first one I made the spice
painting; yesterday's was focused
on sound, and I played a lot of
accordian music, jangled bells,
weaved the building sounds into
the sounds I created, tried to
integrate it all into a whole as a
way of healing Jules’ exasperation
with the car alarm that kept
going off outside all the day
before; I don’t know yet what Il
do next week for my final piece)
from 6 am to 6 pm, and
Wednesday to Friday are ‘gallery
hours’ (11 am to 6 pm) where
people can come in and do as
much of an interactive perfor-
mance ritual as they dare. Most of
them just want to get a tour of
the place, have tea, sit and talk
— but that’s fine. It’s not like a
paid workshop where they're
expected to risk more than that.

Also on the agenda: a full-
moon ritual this Sunday, and
then a full-fledged faerie gather-
ing starting Wednesday with pub-
lic activities (a ritual on Friday and a no-talent cabaret
(Extravaganza, as we call it] — maybe a bit like Frank Moore's
Outrageous Beauty Revue? on Saturday).

This month of performance activities is based around my experi-
ences with the radical faeries. I didn’t want to do a ‘theatre’ piece
where I would entertain an audience with my stories about the faeries
— I wanted the audience to feel more like participants, so I developed
this piece that is more like an environment that people come into and
that I animate as a performer. No fourth wall separation, no per-
former-audience dynamic to force the nature of the interaction. A
piece about building community (since that is what the faeries have
taught me), one in which my ‘sissy’ side is on display (with its poli-
tics, spiritual awareness, sense of fashion, gentleness, etc.) without

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excluding anyone for their own identifications, and not limiting my
own identity to any one label, even one as fluid and ambiguous as
‘faerie’.

So far the piece has been magical. The turn-outs haven't been
huge, which is fine — communities usually get built slowly and in
pieces (I told my friend Andrea the other day, “Toronto is too cold and
disconnected a city for me, so I’m building my own city, one person at
a time”) — but the buzz and interest seems to be gathering as the
events go on — so we might be run ragged by next week!

For me, it took a lot of courage to create this playhouse atmosphere
and call it ‘art’ — but so far the reaction has been unexpectedly pos-
itive. Some have taken the environment we've created to be a kind of
visual art show on its own, asking about the ‘titles’ of individual pieces
(‘um, gee, it’s not that kind of a show) as if it were a group show of
installation pieces. Everyone is completely charmed by the focus

a around food — where else do you

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ENN) ‘xX} all the while I’m in a subtle per-
BRR
WALK AY!

AYYY 5 .
Ory rail formance mode, shaping their

AAA ° ‘

AP WN KW experience just enough to push
SOO

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Ee > iy them a little bit, interjecting bits
Ne of faeriedom, getting them to do
y CAE simple things like play with the

on costumes, or sit down and quilt
with Jules, or leave something in
the altar room. It’s been great to
have a place to come to every day
and just be creative, and have
people come by to play. It’s also
been fun to slowly take over, first
the initial rush of having some-
thing ready for the opening, but
then living in the space (I don't
sleep here most nights, but Jules
is actually resident here, since he
normally lives on the farm where
we do our gatherings) and making
little adjustments, adding our
touch, taking it over inch by inch
and transforming it, even if it’s
only things that we would notice.
And it makes so much more sense
to me as art than, say, a gallery
show where you put up the work
and disappear, never knowing
how people react to it, never talking with people about their feelings,
their impulses, or the motivations that drive the work.

Whatever else happens, I'm having fun — but I also feel like this
kind of work has an effect, even if no one shows up. And the connec-
tions are often unexpected. There was another group that rents the
space on Wednesday nights to drum (it’s a class in african drumming,
and there’s a downstairs space that they're supposed to use during the
time I’m here) — so last week I set them up around my snake paint-
ing, which was amazing. The teacher got really into the space, and
said to his class “tonight I want us to make these snakes dance” —
and I got a free show!

More later.
xo Paul

DHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO OOOO OOOO OOOO OOOO OOOO OOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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TC(r) #3, april 1993

POEMS BY R. (DIX!) COHN, ANNIE SPRINKLE, MERLE
TOFER, JESSE BEAGLE ¢ ESSAYS BY VERONICA VERA,
LUNA SANGUINE AND FRANK MOORE ¢ PHOTOS BY
RICHARD SILVARNES, WINK VAN KEMPEN, ROBERT

TC(e) #1, january 1992 TC(e) #2, july 1992

POEMS BY KAREN FINLEY, NONI HOWARD, TRACY
MOSTOVOY, FRANK MOORE, JACK FOLEY AND JESSE
BEAGLE « ARTWORK BY LABASH ¢ PHOTOS BY TRACY
MOSTOVOY AND ERIC KROLL * CARTOON BY WILL OF

ESSAYS BY FRANK MOORE, CURTIS YORK AND KYLE
GRIFFITH © ARTWORK BY LEE KAY, H.R. GIGER, PETER
PETRISKO, JR., JOHN SEABURY AND LABASH ¢ PHOTO
BY KEVIN RICE ¢ POEM BY BARNABY CHANCELLOR

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TC(r) #4, january 1994

POEMS BY ANA CHRISTY, FRANK MOORE, STEVEN
KAUFFMAN, NONI HOWARD AND ROBERT W.
HOWINGTON ¢ SHORT STORY BY CAROL A. QUEEN «
ESSAYS BY TRACE DE HAVEN, JAMES DAVID AUDLIN
(CHIEF DISTANT EAGLE), PROF. CURTIS AND FRANK
MOORE ¢ ARTWORK BY JOANNA PETTIT, JOHN SEABURY
AND LABASH ¢ PHOTO BY NINA GLASER ¢ PHOTOS OF
LINDA MONTANO BY ANNIE SPRINKLE

TC(r) #5, may 1995
POEMS BY JESSE BEAGLE, AL CUNNINGHAM, ROBERT W.
HOWINGTON, GEORGE KAUFFMAN, ANA CHRISTY, ANTLER,
MOLLY HOLTZCHLAG AND ELLIOTT © ESSAYS BY FRANK
MOORE, JAMES D. AUDLIN (CHIEF DISTANT EAGLE) AND
PETER RIDEN » SHORT STORY BY BARBARA SMITH e
REVIEW OF ANNIE SPRINKLE’S PERFORMANCE BY
FRANK MOORE » ARTWORK BY LABASH ¢ CARTOONS
BY T.R.MILLER © PHOTOS BY PETER C. TURNER AND
LINDA MAC ¢ INTERVIEW WITH PAUL KRASSNER BY
FRANK MOORE.

For a complete catalog of all our shit send an SASE to:
Inter-Relations, P.O.Box 11445, Berkeley, CA 94712 (510) 526.7858
e-mail: fmoore@lanminds.com

Check out Frank Moore's Web of All Possibilities
http: //www.eroplay.com

MAPLETHORPE, ANNIE SPRINKLE, MARC TRUNZ,
AMY ARDREY AND JAN DEEN ¢ ARTWORK BY LABASH
AND JOHN SEABURY

TC(r) #6, june 1996 &>>

POEMS BY AL CUNNINGHAM, GEORGE KAUFFMAN,
DOROTHY JESSE BEAGLE, ELLIOTT, ANA CHRISTY,
GRASSHOPPER, JANET KUYPERS, DAVID WHITACRE,
ROBERT W. HOWINGTON, MARK BEGLEY, ERICKA
SLAYER, NONI HOWARD, PAUL WEINMAN AND FRANK
MOORE ° ESSAYS BY FRANK MOORE AND UNRU LEE
SHORT STORIES BY CHARLES CHAIM WAX, K.ATCHLEY,
DR. BRYAN D. REDDICK, AL CUNNINGHAM, WILL SARVIS,
AND TRADER RILEY « A REVIEW OF BARBARA GOLDEN’S
MULTIMEDIA PACKAGE BY FRANK MOORE « PHOTOS BY
FLO FOX, TONY RYAN, ERIC BOUTILIER-BROWN AND
LINDA MAC - PHOTOGRAPH OF LESLIE BARANY IN AN HR
GIGER CHAIR» ARTWORK BY JOHN SEABURY, SPIDER
WEBB, FLORENCE GRAY, HR GIGER, LORENZO MOYA,
AND LABASH » CARTOONS BY T.R. MILLER, SEAN M.
BIERI, ADRIAN VALDES MONTALVAN AND ENRIQUE DEL
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REVIEWS

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary #7
1997

“Without a doubt, one of the best literary/art zines being published to-
day -- there’ a free-spirited attitude throughout Frank’s zine that’s hard

to resist. Quite a few nudes, but they're usually done tastefully and never
appear sleazy. Sometimes off-the-wall, sometimes bizarre, The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary is never dull -- and certainly very erotic. The art by La-
Bash throughout this issue is simply brilliant and the back cover is a thing
of beauty (but not meant for the uptight). A few of the many highlights
include Ana Christy’s ‘If Jesus Had a Hat He Wouldnt Need a Halo, Kevin
Sampsell’s amusing “Possessed by Lenny?’ (‘My two year-old says about

50 words. / One of his favorites is /“Fuck’’) and Ray Heinrichs cyber-
space poem on having a URL rejected for ‘questionable language and/or
subject matter: I greatly enjoyed Frank's thought-provoking “Mainstream
Avant-Garde?, a rant on art becoming mainstream. ‘It takes a lot to enter,
and to stay in, the underground, he writes. “Ihe underground is where
the real freedom and the real ability to change society are to be found: A
review of Tony Ryan's book of nude photographs makes an appropriate
centerfold piece -- glad Frank decided to print a few samples. You may
balk at the asking price, but art ain't cheap, brothers and sisters!”

Ruel Gaviola, Amusing Yourself To Death #6, August 1997

“This is a fine zine photocopied but with thick cover and center stapled.
Each issue is a work of art, with fine photography and drawings. Great
cartoon artwork from Michael LaBash and a good mix of underground
poetry and short stories. Issue number 7 out now features Frank Moore's
review of Tony Ryan's book of nude photographs, Beauty Reality and
some examples of his striking photography. A poem by Kevin Sampsell
called Possessed by Lenny reads: “My two year old says about 50 words.
One of his favorites is ‘Fuck’ or as he phrases it “Ohhhh fuck. I think

he may be possessed by the spirit of Lenny’s cinematic double Dustin
Hoffman and he’s not even dead yet. So now weve rented Scent of a
Woman because it seems like “Hooyaahhh!’ would be more fun for him

to say and we wouldnt have to pay for an exorcist to get Mr. Hoffman's
undead spirit to come out of our son: Also great is a poem by Ana
Christy, If Jesus Had A Hat He Wouldn't Need A Halo, reprinted elsewhere
in this issue. All in all, superb work done by everyone. Check this zine out
today!”

Lucid Moon, November 1997

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

Frank Moore & Co. have again created a beautiful collage of expression that many will want
to have a look at, to experience really. The images, derived from the writing, artwork and
photography, will, at the very least, get you to think about your everyday reality. TC(1), ‘a zine
of all possibilities; cannot be defined with any one label. Sex zine? yes, erotic (in the widest
sense) thoughts and play are used, but they are not exactly ends in themselves. They are used
to help people to expand their reality, a reality that will be, hopefully, wholly of their own
creation.

TC(r) volume 1 issue 7, 32 magazine-sized pages, contains, among other things: An editorial
by Frank, speaking to those who might want to start their own zines or whatever, «...please
dont be fooled by our ‘technical quality. We just have an in-house graphic art company.

But all you need is good contents...which money cant buy. Good contents are in you...
SHAMBOLIC FRAGMENTIS by John Fleetham, an hallucinatory trip filled with unusual
imagery; drawings by Sean Bieri, one of which is of a female emptying a can of tuna onto
her cunt while her lover, a cat, hungrily eyes her (or his) meal; photos by Matt, the very real
Heather is shown in different unposed poses, including one with her finger between her
very attractive lips (touching her love-button?); a poem POSSESSED BY LENNY? by Kevin
Sampsell, his two-year-old son has a vocabulary of 50 words, his favorite being ‘fuck, is the
little one possessed by Lenny Bruce?; a review of Tony Ryan's book BEAUTY REALITY by
Frank Moore, according to Frank, ‘a book of beautiful bodies naked...not just Hollywood
Playboy ‘beauty...people beauty...men, couples of both genders, mothers and children (can
the dirty minded cry child abuse?), mothers-about-to-be, children (will the dirty minded
cry child porn?)...and real living lusty women...,; included are four examples of Tony Ryan's
excellent work; a poem OXYGEN by Jody Bloom, a man’s wife has suddenly become ‘a
crazed nymphomaniac, like a teenager minus the embarrassment..: hes not at all as lucky

as one might think; a poem AN AMERICAN AGENDA by John Rich, a very honest and
sharp commentary on America being a police-state and more specifically its “war on drugs’;
a drawing with accompanying text by R. Fleming, ‘stock power broker and yuppy Lydia
Index pays money to get it hard up the ass in some trash-filled back alley; and then there are
LaBashs great trance illustrations. Be sure to see some of his and Frank's work published here
in OF#13.

Inter-Relations also produces videos. The videos are mostly about ‘eroplay’ - using erotic play
to liberate the mind and body. It’s good to see people who realize that, in general, WoMan’'s
body has been desexualized. And that sexuality is often seen only as genital penetration. So
the whole body needs to be resexualized; and that’s why I encourage people to try kissing,
nibbling, sucking, touching, fingering, dry-humping etc. People must stop describing these
forms of expression as ‘foreplay - in truth, they are just different ways of expressing Eros. It
appears that Frank Moore's eroplay consists of something very similar.’

Dr. Ducky DooLittle’s Hypnotic Releases, Catalog #2

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Frank Moore, with Linda Mac have now come out with their “zine of all
possibilities” #7 in which plenty of drawings and pictures make it most
unique. Tony Ryans B & W pictorial is a treat and there is a presentation
made by Frank that indeed reveals much of Tony’s talent. Beautiful
women and interacting people presented with class. Annie Sprinkle is
photographed with her friend Ms. Silver. As Frank indicates they have
many other commitments aside from this publication so that it takes a
little while for the next one to come. Their web of all possibilities is at
http://www.eroplay.com.”

The Affiliate, October 1997

“A peak into the fuel for the free life of Frank Moore. Bizarre and twisted
visuals c/o LaBash, Brian Viveros, Darren Blunt, John Seabury, Sean
Bieri, the beautiful nude photography of Tony Ryan from Australia,

plus a review by Frank of Ryans book Beauty Reality, another review,

of a reading by poet Karen Finley, plus there’s some interesting things
here and there from Frank's E-salon. I don't know if it's worth $5, but it's
really a good zine’

The Flashing Astonisher #10

“Erotic zine, as opposed to porn that is. Most of it is celebrating
sexuality in all its forms, but there's some darker stuff here too, especially
the illustrations by Brian Viveros which reminded me of Savoy's Lord
Horror books. All the usual suspects are here - poetry, short fiction,
art, reviews, true life stuff, plus photography, some explicit. Generally I
think this is a good zine, although I'm not altogether certain. There's a
good sense of interaction and networking from editor Frank Moore. If
youre interested in sex zines in the States, this would be a good place
to start. Of interest to comics fans is some revelatory art by Sean Bieri
which might just blow your mind!”

The Review Sheet v2 #6, November 1997

“A fine publication with great cartoon artwork by Michael LaBash and
others and good mix of underground poetry and short stories. One of
the best zines around”

Ralph Haselmann, Lucid Moon, September 1997

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Yes, this mag is relatively pricey, and it has the same poets and writers
you see in a host of other mags, but TC(r) is different. This is the type of
forum that us “zine” writers deserve to be printed in. Each page is zany,
you dont know what youre going to get when you turn to the next one.
Dirty cartoons and pictures galore -- but not the type youd get on the
Internet. These are done by artists. In fact, this mag embraces -- no pun
intended -- the Internet: drawings of guys and girls doing it computer-
style, and much of the writing comes from e-mail forums. Plus, editor
Frank Moore really makes the reader feel involved with his fine product.
Youre invited in. Usually after I review a mag, I throw it away. I'm
keeping this one!”

Jerry White, Literary Rocket 11/97

“This issue is worth your dinero for the artwork alone! From the
cyberhorrorsexual drawings of Brian Viveros to Sean Bieri’s mid-60's
style escapades to the sexy photos from Tony Ryan's new book to (huff
puff). Oh. Sorry. And things wouldnt be complete without Michael
LaBashs playful hallucinogenic drawings popping up everywhere. You
also have Ana Christy, elliott, Kevin Sampsell, the ongoing strong-arm
tactics of the govt. as seen by John Rich, Lob’s manifesto of sorts that
describes his Instagon Foundation, and editor Frank Moores discussion
on the underground and how some folx can be easily manipulated by
the lure of fast money. Always a valuable source of information and
entertainment’

Bleeding Velvet Octopus #10

“From articles on Sex-Magik to knocked out illustrations by the likes

of Michael LaBash to poetry to interviews with members of the avant-
garde post modernist porn movement, this ‘zine explores the world of
sexual beings with humor and an enlightened maturity that is a welcome
alternative to the so-called “adult” sex industry. Previous issues have
featured the wit and wisdom of Paul Krassner, Annie Sprinkle and, of
course, Frank Moore.’

Raindog, Lummox Journal, December 1998

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary is a lovingly assembled collection of
art, essays, reviews, and poetry, about the human body. The scope of
this work goes beyond eroticism and sexuality, however. It is about
the appreciation of the body in a way that is more complex than being
aroused or having orgasms. It treats the body as a religious symbol of
sorts that can be used to reach transcendent states. If you think Editor,
Frank Moore is a crackpot, you should probably check out the Kama
Sutra (ancient writings about sexual transcendence that are still in
practice to this day).

Each issue of “Cherotic’ is densely packed with high quality
photography, meticulously rendered drawings, and other appealing
graphics. The writing manages to tackle some fairly heady issues in an
informal, sometimes humorous manner. This issue includes cartoon
images by Sean Bieri, artistic photos by Tony Ryan, and an article
entitled “Mainstream Avant Garde?” by Frank Moore. Recommended.”
Jerry White, Literary Rocket 11/97

BLY EES AN IONS PIS EDN NEC ancy

7] EDA S OF Coy FRITS // (GF
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Katey C= O)é
AN kbd se aie y

Dp aeP Len

ISSN 1083-8872

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary
is a zine about “the edge” for
and by people on the edge.

TO(r) is published by Inter-

Relations. The publishers/editors
are Frank Moore and Linda Mac,
the art editor is Michael LaBash,

and the circulation manager is
Alexi Malenky.

The price for this issue is
$5.00 per copy. We don't sell
subscriptions, to avoid tying

ourselves down to a rigid publi-

cation schedule or magazine
size. We want to remain free to
publish frequently or larger
issues at longer intervals and
adjust the price accordingly.

f

p

ms Vom hew aii te Buduathas

Sah Hed heick
tattved the Werig

“the mio Mole

Drawn by Zen Nun 300 years ago ...

All material is copyrighted 1999 in the names of the individual

authors/artists. Material by Moore and LaBash may be reprinted as
is without advance permission - but please inquire before reprinting
material by the other contributors. Of course, we would like copies of
all reprints from the magazine, and we'd also like to see copies of all

reviews or comments on TC(r).

We heartily encourage letters of comment from readers and wil

answer as many as we can. Please tell us if you don't want us to print

material from your letter - otherwise we will assume it’s OK.

Please address all correspondence and orders for

magazines to:

Frank Moore, P.O. Box 11445, Berkeley CA 94712

e-mail: fmoore@eroplay.com

WorldWideWeb: http://www.eroplay.com

TC(r)'s AD POLICY

Recently we have received several inquiries
about how to buy ads in The Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary. Although we are not actively
seeking such ads, we are not precluding
them either. However, we will judge whether
or not to accept an ad.

TC(r) is a xeroxed, black and white zine that
is published irregularly ... if we are lucky,
twice a year. So it is not the place for fancy
color ads or for ads with time deadlines. On
the other hand, TC(r) magically finds its way
around the world.

TO SUBMIT AN AD

Send us a copy of your ad and a S.A.S.E. If
we accept it, we send you the rate for your
ad ... and if we need anything from you such
as halftones, we will tell you. If we don’t
accept it, we will send your ad back.

gia

AD RATES

Sliding scale: $10-$50 per quarter of a
standard typing page. The scale slides
according to our whim.

HOW WE ACCEPT AN AD

Our whim also is a big factor in accepting an
ad. Another factor is the other contents of
the particular issue. And there may be other
factors which are unknown even to us.

FREE TC(r) COPIES

Because we are not actively looking for paid
ads, we do not give free copies to would-be
advertisers. But we encourage them to buy a
back issue or two. However, we do give you
a free copy of the issue in which your ad
appears.

Frank Moore
November 12, 1993

ROP

“fh

gr

nea ae mea ha ny Baediarebeinicentnnnetenienatsn Citas

G3:

34

35

36
37

39

7

Illustration by LaBash

Frankly Speaking by Frank Moore
Who Says? by George Kauffman

Rethinking The Disability Agenda by Steven E. Brown
Artwork by David Aronson

Grandpa by Anthony Lucero
Someone Else Who Loved Me by Ray Heinrich

Advertisements
Howdy Frank by Rick “Catfish”
Artwork by LaBash

~ Execrations Of The Buried Life by The Monk

Cartoon by Ralph Haselmann Jr.
Artwork by John Seabury
Siluetas by George Wirth

Monica Seles Dies, 76, Movie Star and Tennis Great
by Darren Johnson

Lost Friends Re-Friending by Jim DeWitt
La Fuerza Del Volumen by George Wirth
with Artwork by LaBash

Being Molested? Being Abused? Being Taken Advantage

Of? by Antler

Poem by Anna Wilson

Artwork by Claudio Parentela

*335 byBlain Wison
Alone In The Madness Of Empty Nights by Mark Senkus
(with a letter and artwork from him)

Advertisements =» _ ee
Last Of The Beats by Ralph Haselmann Jr.

An Early Mourning Poem by Giovanni Moro

Artwork by Daak Madison
CartoonbyRalphHaselmanndr
The Poem Will Save You by Raindog

When Ron O’Neal Was Superfly by R.L.Nichols

Frank Moore by Robert L. Penick

Artwork by Ivan Preissler

- Signals From Space by Elliott

Back Ain't Disneyland Just Hell by LaBash

Who Says?

-for Frank Moore

She took off all her clothes,
then she took off her skin.

I had never seen such bones!

Her legs crushed me while her

tongue darted out of her skull.

I got out of my skin
and we made love. Who says
there’s no life after death?
- George Kauffman

153 (BASE 7

ILLUSTRATION BY MICHAEL ALAN GRAPIN

Saturday, April 24, 1999

Ok! Stop your whining] I’m sick of people asking when is the
new TC[r] coming out! We here have a life ... we ain't on some
fucking time clock! So you have this new issue in your hands,
in front of your eyes. So it took two years to create an
issue that will make you sweat ... and I don’t mean just
sweat in your armpits! I mean sweating mind/brain/soul. I
mean sweating sex. I mean sweating eyeballs. To take this
journey of art, ideas, nude bodies, and other turns-on, you
need to be to prepared to be soaked. And we have the
artists, writers, and photographers whose passions will
addict you, arouse your own passions. That is why we are
here! More about passion in a minute. But ...

We tried to thin down this issue to save on money. And we did real good. We cut
about fifty percent of what we wanted to put in. (So you who are not in here ... we
sweat blood to get you in. But the laws of physics got in our way!) But when we laid
out what we had swindled it down to, we still had more pages than last issue. We
just said fuck the profit margin (whatever that is) ... this is what we want to put
out! Thus, the plump lusty broad which you are fondling right now! We love when you
fondle us!

Ok! We didn’t spend the two years getting this issue together. We, in the form of
Coralhei, have started DIGGER UNDERGROUND DISTRIBUTION EXCHANGE, a free ser-
vice to get zines etc. out in the San Francisco Bay Area (DUDE’S address is Digger
Underground Distribution Exchange, 6201 Harwood, Oakland, CA 94618).

We also have created a huge underground artistic playground/community on the
internet. Its home is http://wwweroplay.com. As a part of this, we have started a
web radio station, LOVE UNDERGROUND VISION RADIO ... or LUVeR for short
(http://www.eroplay.com/luver/) We have artists around the world doing shows
(either live or on tape) on/for LUVeR. In fact you can hear many of the people in this
issue .... and past issues ... on LUVeR. Of course LUVeR has the free nonlinear reality
of TC(r). All this is to say, we now want not only your writing and art but also your
music, tapes, cds, readings, gigs. programs ... well, use your imagination! Send them to:

Frank Moore
P.O. Box 11445
Berkeley, CA 94712

Now, back to talking about
passion...

Passions don't burn out
bliss don't boil away
fuel of life

is for a lifetime

burnt out?

Kill yourself...

or stop using
glamor. hype,
romantic drug
to rush above
everyday reality

Sou never knox
Join The Ne l(ele uhat xou'sl hear on BUVGR...

it’s non-linear radiog

e-mail: fmoore@eroplay.com http: //www.eroplay.com/luver/

2)

THEATER RANT
2)

by Heidi Winkle

Ok, so I’m cheating a little here. I’m Crye’s fiance,
and I would’ve sent this via your web page, but |
don’t know the address for it, and | also didn’t
know if it would let me attach a file. The thing is,
AN (ce) CM Caltom aliale Per lalom (alia) @imelere|aiicc Mm el-me-r-(em ell]
somebody in the theatre community, and from what
Mike’s told me that includes you to some extent.
Unfortunately I’m not familiar with your story more
than what was in the last ‘fly. So | thought I'd send
Cal oM-l folate mei mtfolemeColala mer-lc-m comal-t-lam tal mect- ham tal=
W\fo) comm olUl a Mai m cole) «lave mm co) mu (-t-reley-(e) Gam mer-laM mel-li(-aN(=
’'m the only person who feels this way. Thanks
for the time.

Heidi

lam a lighting designer for the theatre, and |

love my work, but | am becoming more and more _

disgusted with today’s theatre community, and I’m
el=Yeltalaliare mcomelare(-e-yclarem ia \iam Mal: Mel giY(:) MU cma ley
our audiences is the same as what they could see
on t.v. or most film. | believe the role of theatre in
society is more than that. | disagree with the
FYor-Col-Vanl(om->.4e)t-latclicelame)m iil-t-1 (e-em eb lgelesoi—

“To entertain, to instruct...” It doesn’t say
enough. Today’s theatregoers are interested in a
alle lame) mos (-Lelatjirmm rl coraliale m-veluit-rel atom) b- Mom Cs
on stage. They sit in an audience, insulated in

thoughts of grocery lists, the staff meeting at the
office tomorrow... We need to somehow persuade
them to pay attention, find a way to break them
out of their role of mere watchers. Shocking
theatre is good, if it does this. But how do we go
Fe] ofol ulm (okexcy=laliave miac-milar-laretelmarelremeym (C1. ¢=1 Gi elU i=) co
Tae olcer-M Ulm comele) ale) i-\YmCnt-m (eel m= qlee
favor of the sensational, the shallow stuff that fills —
a house but says nothing? The NEA, as has been
seen in recent years, is not the answer. We need to
reverse the trend of theatre as entertainment and
work our way back to theatre as ritual, as oral
history, as social commentary.

Tament-m el-relialaliare MiM@ili(-em Ules(-m cols
Somewhere along the way it lost its morals.

Theatre is becoming a farce. The public goes
to see a show under the guise of an intellectual
night out, but if that was what we gave them they
would be offended. Yes, theatre should entertain.
Story-telling is an integral part of the art. But
today’s story-tellers miss the mark when it comes
to any deeper meaning. Give me Tennessee
Williams, a master of the story, but with so much
more between his lines. Or the Greek greats, who
fof \V(= MU om oy-Ta mali colavar-lace mui adie) (ele \iam ox: 1a 3 Ce) a1
eave or-lamuitele-1M-liem-selet-l meet ia ame [od
Charlotte’s Web, a beautiful children’s story turned
syrupy on stage, mind-numbing to me and mildly
entertaining to its young audiences. And what
would Shakespeare say if he saw a production of
Romeo and Juliet set in the Gaza strip in order to
“give it more relevance in today’s society”? Or
Mary Chase’s wonderful Harvy with Elwood cast
as a female to superimpose a director’s feminist
feelings over a story that in no way supports that
idea. This is the wrong way to do what needs to
fey-Molelal-Mw-Ulvmeleleremolt-\aiUa(elalmel\(-1- Uw: m-telg] o) mi Ce)
work with, and work within. He has his own
intentions, and we must honor those. If the script
doesn’t say what you want to present then find
one that does. Don’t change what you must to
make a script fit your intentions. A script is a
jitaledarsee Mm o)aele(Ulei em: Mm Cole) MU -MULy-M Come (1m Comelelm-lilen
TM male) a Mu cosso)'aucolelam eleltce lamcom el-meisle)e)ol-te tye)
and used how it is needed. It is more like a
ale rcy fers] mexelan) oles] t(e)a Mm Com ol-M ial (-1g ol ¢-3(-e mi Com—elii l=
degree by the musicians (in this case directors,
designers, actors) but for each note to be played
as it was written.

So if reinterpreting the script is not the answer,
what is? We must encourage our playwrights to
put a little more meat on the bones of today’s
plays. And as a theatre community we must find a
way to say something and survive. We must
refuse to talk down to audiences in order to sell
tickets. And we must not be coerced into filling
the role already filled by television — mindless
entertainment for the masses.

FYEN ON MY
7 SN HOER

“NOMEN

Se
aes7.8

Imost twenty years ago, when I first became an
advocate and student of disability rights, a debate
about language raged. The offensive words were
“crippled,” and “handicapped,” and the new politi-
cally correct word became “disabled,” which then evolved into
the phrase “people with disabilities.” As far back as I can recall I
believed the language debate to be a vital one—not because of
the words themselves—instead, because the words represented
one’s sense of personal, social, and political identity.

I didn’t know the phrase “identity politics,” but I certainly
practiced it. I gave speeches and wrote articles discussing the
impact of each of these words and phrases and how they fit into
a burgeoning disability rights movement. I fought for the inte-
gration of people with disabilities into every aspect of society.

I also turned my historian’s eye toward as much literature
as I could possibly find exploring disability rights. My lifelong
quest for justice combined with my personal experiences of
discrimination and oppression and my newfound study of dis-
ability rights, history, and philosophy. I also enjoyed the per-
formances of a local readers’ theater group, JustUs. The funniest
skit I remember was the KRIP News. The result of all these
activities became a passion for the idea of a culture of disability.

The first known public use of the term “disability culture”
occurred at a 1984 conference when two Boston-area professors,
David Pfeiffer and Andrea Schein, each responded positively to
the question “Is There a Culture of Disability?” During the

ARTWORK BY

IDF-higlemm-Gaeyat-jeoya!

. tie D apQNEon 44 SO
rs y Seon }

Politician

remainder of that decade, a periodic focus on the idea of a cul-
ture of disability appeared in publications like the Disability Rag.

' Both the concept and the practice of disability culture, in
the United States, exploded in the 1990s. Panels, workshops, con-
ferences, articles and books have all included or focused exclu-
sively on disability culture. After ten years of thinking, talking,
and writing about disability culture I offered the following
definition:

People with disabilities have forged a group identity. We
share a common history of oppression and a common bond of
resilience. We generate art, music, literature, and other expres-
sions of our lives, our culture, infused from our experience of
disability. Most importantly, we are proud of ourselves as people
with disabilities. We claim our disabilities with pride as part of
our identity. We are who we are: we are people with disabilities.

When I began to concentrate on the idea of disability culture
ten years ago there were few proponents of the concept. That is
no longer the case. Now that I am not required to focus each
speech or article on proving that there is a disability culture I
have had the leisure to explore anew my own perceptions about
disability issues. In this process I realized I have undergone a
significant transformation.

Unsurprisingly, I returned to language. Instead of asking
how our phrases reflect our group and individual conscious-
nesses I posed the question who gains an advantage. In simple
terms, who benefits from disability? The answer angers me.

The following groups all benefit from disability: physicians
and all other medical personnel who treat people with disabili-
ties; the entire health care field, from policymakers to nursing
home conglomerates to HMOs; lawyers, who prosecute and
defend personal injury, custody, and discrimination cases; the
“helping professions:” psychologists to social workers to special
education teachers; bureaucracies, such as Social Security agen-
cies, welfare departments, and the Veteran’s Administration;
industries, such as wheelchair manufacturers, vehicle modifica-
tion businesses, and adaptive equipment makers; foundations,
associations, and charities that raise money; researchers about
(and sometimes on) people with disabilities and academics who
teach and write about disability issues; people who own stocks
in companies that benefit from the business of serving (or
exploiting, depending on your viewpoint) people with disabili-
ties; and myriad other groups who owe their employment to us,
including rehabilitation agencies, independent living centers, arts
programs, and people, like myself, who make a living consulting,
writing, and talking to groups of people with disabilities.

J am not arguing that people with disabilities ourselves do
not benefit from any of the above groups. But I am asking the
question who benefits more? In terms of financial security, edu-
cation, employment, physical and attitudinal accessibility, peo-
ple with disabilities remain the most unemployed, underedu-
cated, institutionalized minority in this country. Who benefits
from disability? I would argue that nondisabled people reap
more rewards from this classification than we do.

Now I have reached a dilemma. I remain convinced that it is
vital that people with disabilities acknowledge and celebrate our
culture. But I also believe that as a group we are benefiting others
far more than ourselves. How do we attain an equilibrium where
we are so comfortable with ourselves as people with disabilities
that we have no desire to be different than we are without being
continually exploited by those who ostensibly serve us?

I wish I had a revelatory answer, but I do not. All I can do is
what most of us do, plod along, and try to rectify life’s inequal-
ities using whatever talents and desires I possess. For me this
takes the form of posing questions, exploring concepts and
actions, and trying to make sense of it through my own art:
writing essays and poetry.

EBS EBLE
RPONGON 3S

Without being able to resolve the dilemma posed, the next
best offering I can make is to issue a series of questions:

First, and foremost, why do people with disabilities, why
does anyone, have to work so hard, fight so viciously for rights
that are already guaranteed to every citizen within our own
Constitution? Who has decided to disenfranchise us? Why does
anyone let this happen? Again, who benefits? Who does not?

Second, why must we continuously fight to demonstrate
that we are worthy of attention, of respect, of money? Who has
decided that corporate welfare is more important than funding
human rights, social service, and arts organizations? Why have
we let them? Why do we continue to let them run roughshod
over Our interests so they can continue aggrandizement of their
interests?

Third, why do we have to prove that our art is worthy?
Isn't all art worthy? If not, who decides? Why do we let them?
What is being attacked-the art, the artists or both?

We, people with disabilities and artists alike, have been
portrayed as victims who need to be rescued. With disability,
we are perceived as victims of our bodies or our psyche. Artists
are thought to be inept at “making it in the real world.” What
would happen if all the money that went to corporations and
industries were divided and distributed equally to each citizen?
What would happen if corporate welfare became artistic wel-
fare? Who would then need to be rescued?

Frank Moore, an artist whom I admire and constantly
learn from, set the tone for this discussion with the powerful
excerpt from “Out of Isolation.” He argues that we reach peo-
ple one person at a time and that it may take days, months,
sometimes even years for the art to make an impact. We can-
not always know who we reach with our words, with our
action, with our art, with our lives.

But reach we must continue to do. To grow within our-
selves. To grow with our art. To grow with our lives. To try and
change the inequality of our lives and our art so that we do cel-
ebrate ourselves, with and without disabilities, without fear of
exploitation because we must be who we are to fulfill our des-
tinies. There is no more important work—no more important

art—than that. EMAIL: ste brown@ juno.com

Visit David Aronson’s website at http://www.anti-art.com/aron/aron.htm

seoreea

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ASSEMBLING |

MaGAzINeS

Stephen Perkins (1997)

he term ‘assembling magazine’ embodies an innovative
publishing paradigm which first gained widespread
attention in the early 1970's through the publication
of the American magazine Assembling (1970-87).
Frustrated at the limited number of distribution out-
lets for experimental art and literature during this period, the
editors of Assembling responded with an open submissions poli-
cy. Contributors were invited “to submit a thousand 8 1/2 x 11”
copies of whatever they wanted to include.””) These works were
then assembled into an edition of
1000 copies. The first issue includ-
ed 42 contributors from ten states
and three countries. A year earlier neces
in West Germany, one issue of a poe
similar magazine was published
under the title Omnibus News
(1969). Significantly larger than
the first Assembling, it included
117 contributors from eight coun-
tries and was issued in an edition
of 1500. Christian D’Orville, in one
of the introductory statements
by its three editors, writes about
his interest in creating this
‘Blattersammlung’ (collection of
sheets) and the uncensored and
chance manner in which this mass
of heterogeneous material was
brought together.) In important
ways these magazines invert the
traditional publishing model: edi-
torial prerogative is abolished, the
contributors now become the edi-
tors, and the ‘editors’ assume the
role of coordinators. Traditional
roles collapsed as both became
collaborators in a cumulative process leading to the final publi-
cation. More importantly, assembling magazines threw open
the doors for anyone to step onto the omnibus of experimental
publishing.

The seeds of this publishing strategy can be traced back to
' the early avant-gardes of this century. Within this context
- assemblings can be seen as encompassing a sphere of activity
concerned with extending traditional publishing formats and
the development of independently produced artists’ periodicals.

into being is always left unchallenged.

MAGAZINES

Most of the early avant-gardes published periodicals
(arguably a prerequisite in establishing avant-garde credentials),
but, despite the sometimes radical texts and the formal experi-
mentation of these publications, the majority of them still sub-
scribed to the traditional roles of the editor and that of the con-
tributors. Although these periodicals are important repositories
of avant-garde texts and images as well as vital players in avant-
garde strategizing, the structuring and form in which they came

There are some exceptions.
Hugo Ball, the founder of Cabaret
Voltaire in Zurich, in an entry in
his diary from April 18th, 1916,
writes “Tzara concerned about the
magazine. My proposal to call it

~ > °
+f

$55 set Petre af
eErHET A ii HS Dada is accepted. We could take it

.'s

in turns to edit; a common editori-
al board which would entrust the
task of selection and arrangement
to one of its members for each
issue.) As it turned out the first
issue of Dada was published a year
ee later in 1917 with Tristan Tzara
ae leeef firmly entrenched as the editor
' «= “simply because no one but Tzara
had so much energy, passion and
talent for the job.’©) To my knowl-
edge it would not be until 60 years
later with the establishment of
Commonpress (1977-1990), that
the apotheosis of this cooperative
editorial strategy would be fully
realized.

Another magazine that chal-
lenged editorial prerogative in a
more direct manner was the New
York based magazine The Blind Man (1917). Initiated by Marcel
Duchamp and co-edited with Henri-Pierre Roché and Beatrice
Wood, it was inspired by the preparations for the first jury-free
exhibition of the newly formed Society of Independent Artists.
Duchamp and Roché “thought a magazine could be published
without editorial censorship...with the idea that any article
would be accepted with a contribution of four dollars.””) The
front cover of the first issue stated that “the second number of
The Blind Man will appear as soon as YOU have sent sufficient

J

material for it.” This issue, which appeared a month later in May,
was taken up with the furor surrounding the rejection of
Duchamp’s ‘Fountain’ by the Society’s supposedly jury-free hang-
ing committee. It is entirely in keeping with Duchamp’ pen-
chant for dis-assembling cultural constructs that he was respon-
sible for transferring this jury-free strategy from the realm of
the exhibition into the field of publishing."©*”

It's not until the post WWII era that the format of artists’
periodicals comes under sustained scrutiny with the develop-
ment of periodicals as artworks themselves (rather than merely
reproducing artist's works). One early example which illustrates
this trend is Folder (4 issues, 1953-56). Edited by Daisy Aldan and
Richard Miller, each issue had “at least one original serigraph
plus a serigraph cover, and consists of loose printed sheets of fine
laid paper, enclosed in a paper portfolio.”
It's significant that this proto-assembling
is composed of single sheets gathered
together in a portfolio, for this format con-
tinued to be a model for a number of
artists’ periodicals during the 1950’s and
more decisively in the 1960's. Not surpris-
ingly this strategy was but one way of
resolving the problem of combining indi-
vidual artists’ pages into a coherent whole.

Another periodical that adopted a
similar format was Wallace Berman's
Semina (9 issues, 1955-64). Hand printed
by Berman in runs of 150-300 copies, each
issue was a loose collection of printed
drawings, collages, photographs, poems
and writings by contemporary and histori-
cal figures. Apart from the second issue, all
of these were presented in a pocket
attached to the inside of a folded cover."!?)
Operating well outside of the mainstream, Semina circulated
within a small network of friends and presages in its intimacy
the place that assemblings would assume within the correspon-
dence art network. Michael McClure in a 1992 interview spoke of
Semina as;

a form or genre in itself! Seminas are a form of love struc-

ture that Wallace made, drawing friends together

...Semina has some aspects of religion, the religion of art

and friends. There's an initiation to Semina, i.e. if Berman

chose you. One is chosen. One cannot purchase or

request a Semina; it simply comes to you. The magazine

is outside the realm of commodity and merchandising

and purchase. There's nothing to consume. And so its a

completely different kind of thing, and precious."

By the late 1950's and early 1960's an increasing number of
artists’ periodicals were experimenting with different publishing
formats. This publishing activity was in response to a broad
array of experimental art and literature that depended for its
realization, as printed matter. International in scope, these var-
ied fields of experimentation included: concrete and visual poet-
ry, event texts, conceptual works, scores and compositions, to
name but a few. One publication that brought together a wide
spectrum of this material was An Anthology. Published in 1963,
edited by Jackson MacLow and La Monte Young, and designed
by Fluxus impresario George Maciunas, its extended title gives a

10

flavor of its varied contents, “AN ANTHOLOGY of chance oper-
ations concept art anti-art indeterminancy improvisation mean-
ingless work natural disasters plans of action stories diagrams
Music poetry essays dance constructions mathematics composi-
tions...’""4) Consisting of a bound volume of individually printed
pages, including a number of gatefolds, cut cards, sheets tipped-
in envelopes and loose inserts, it represented a compendium of
the then current American avant-guarde.!®)

Maciunas, inspired by his involvement with An Anthology
and in possession of surplus contributions, was concerned that
particular artists had not been included and proposed to La
Monte Young that another issue be published. When Young
declined, Maciunas decided to issue another publication by him-
self. The name he proposed for this publication was Fluxus. As a
skilled designer, Maciunas had given some
thought to the presentation of this publica-
tion, initially it was to follow in the pattern
established by An Anthology, except that
“graphically it would have been a little more,
uh, less conventional than the first one,
which means it would have had objects and
you know, a different packaging. So really
then the idea germinated to use the whole
book as bound envelopes with objects in
the envelopes.’"® Fluxus 1 appeared in 1964 as
a bolted collection of manilla envelopes which
contained assorted printed material and
objects and “packaged in a box made from a
wine crate with stamped lettering...”

Fluxus 1 was certainly not alone in
reconceptualizing the format and packag-
ing of a book/periodical, for there had been
a number of publications in previous years
that had embraced elements of the structur-
ing of Fluxus 1. I believe, however, that this publication brought
together all these experimental strands into a unique and com-
pelling object, and served not only as the model for the numer-
ous boxed anthologies that Maciunas would go on to publish,
but influenced alternative and experimental publishing from
this period onwards. The difficulty in defining what exactly
Fluxus 1 was, is reflective of the intermedial works being made
by artists in the early 1960's. Originally planned as the first in a
series of seven yearbooks (only two were published), it falls
uneasily between publishing genres. Lacking periodicity it
eludes definition as a periodical, yet fits the etymological defini-
tion of a magazine (a storehouse); the inclusion of 3 dimension-
al objects and loose printed matter in envelopes stretches the
definition of a book as a sequence of bound pages of written or
printed literary works; a ‘yearbook’ or ‘anthology’ is more precise
only in the manner in which these terms encompass the variety
of material collected together, but falls short of describing its
actual physical form. Maciunas in a 1962/63 letter (before Fluxus 1
was published), envisaged that it “should be more of an encyclo-
pedia than...a review, bulletin or even a periodical.’"*) To push
the etymological metaphor further, it does seem that ‘encyclope-
dia’ is a strangely appropriate term for what, in effect, Maciunas
was attempting to do, which was to provide a “general education
course” (Med. Lat. root) in the new intermedia arts by way of
a publication that in itself, and its contents, was thoroughly
intermedial."!9)

x
Set

WS 1

Within the next few years two American editors would
extend the format developed by Maciunas and apply it to the
publishing of periodicals. Aspen (10 issues, 1965-71) edited by
Phyllis Johnson and S.M.S. (‘Shit Must Stop, 6 issues, 1968) edited
by William Copley, adopted a boxed and portfolio format respec-
tively. Both published two and three dimensional multiples from
an array of historic and contemporary avant-garde artists.
William Copley, in a pre-publication brochure for S.M.S., exem-
plifies this new attitude towards magazine format:

Each portfolio will contain personal manifestations by
the new as well as the established contemporary artists
in all media. The primary concern of the publisher is...to
liberate the artists from the restrictions of format...The
publisher’s complete sympathy with the artist’s objec-
tive will permit expanded use of new materials in every
category (for the composer, choreographer, sculptor,
poet, painter, writer, film-maker, all inventors) and fresh
application of conventional means.”

A consistent feature in the works of artists from the late
1950's is their incorporation of different communication systems
into their expanded arts activities. The emergence of the postal
system as an integral feature in the conceptualization and dis-
tribution of their works is noticeable amongst the Nouveaux
Realistes in France, the Fluxus community and in particular the
extended web of participants in Ray Johnson's New York
Correspondance School. By the late 1960's an international com-
munity was emerging which used the postal system exclusively
as the medium for exchange and collaboration between its
decentralized members. Rejecting the exclusiveness and com-
petitiveness of existing art institutions, this community coa-
lesced as a parallel counter-institution. Known variously as cor-
respondence art, mail art, postal art or simply the Eternal
Network (Robert Filliou), its participants began organizing
shows, publishing periodicals as well as initiating more personal
projects and exchanges. The leitmotif of this informal network
can be ascertained from the operational guidelines that were
established for the increasing number of correspondence art
exhibitions being organized during these years. These were: no
fees were charged for submission, no jury or selection process, all
works to be exhibited, no works returned and documentation to
be sent to all participants.!2)

It is within the correspondence art community that the piv-
otal conjuction of themes that I have outlined coalesced to cre-
ate the necessary matrix for the establishment of assembling
magazines. The pre-requisites for these magazines were: i) the
development of innovative periodical formats necessitated by
the works coming out of these expanded arts activities;

ii) the application of correspondence art's jury-free sub-
missions policy to that of publishing; and iii), the presence
of a decentralized network of artists for which
assemblings acted as pivotal sites in the collective
transaction of community. Omnibus News and
Assembling represent the beginnings of this new
publishing paradigm and assemblings continue to this
day to be an enduring feature in the topology of the corre-
spondence art landscape, as well as locations through which
community is accessed and replenished.

This catalogue is just the beginning in an effort to document
this important alternative publishing activity and to bring to
light, the nearly three decades-long history of assembling maga-
zines.)

Stephen Perkins

REFERENCES

1. This text originally appeared as the introduction to an exhibition
catalogue of assembling magazines that took place at Subspace,
Iowa City, during September, 1996, curated by myself. The call for
submissions was circulated among the correspondence art net-
work and the exhibition was comprised of 38 titles from 15 coun-
tries, a small number of assembled books, two audio compila-
tions and assorted artists’ magazines, books and catalogues.
Many contributors submitted statements about their publica-
tions and others offered articles and histories on particular
aspects of assemblings. Also included in the catalogue are inter-
views with editors of four of the periodicals in the exhibition. The
catalogue was dedicated to Guillermo Deisler (1940-95), the
Chilean born artist and editor of the exceptional assembling
magazine UNI/vers(;), (35 issues, 1988-95). Copies of the 64 page
catalogue are available in the US for $8 postpaid, write to
Stephen Perkins, 1816 E. College St., lowa City, IA 52245. E-mail
address: <sperkins@blue.weeg.uiowa.edu>

2. Richard Kostelanetz in: Assembling Assembling, New York:
Assembling Press, p. 14.

3. The other two editors were: Thomas Niggl & Heimrad Prem.

4. Hans Richter. Dada Art And Anti-Art, New York: Thames and
Hudson:, p. 31.

5. Richter, Ibid, p. 33.

6. It could be argued that Ken Friedman's New York Correspondence
School Weekly Breeder (1971-1974) with its three different editors
would also meet these requirements. I would argue that the
implementation of rotating editors came after the establishment
of the magazine and that it was not initiated with this particular
strategy in mind.

7. Beatrice Wood, “I Shock Myself: Excerpts from the Autobiography
of Beatrice Wood,’ Arts Magazine, May 1977, p. 136.

8. The eventual fate of The Blind Man was decided upon “in a typi-
cal Dada gesture, Henri-Pierre Roché & Picabia [editor of 391]

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played a game of chess with an absurd twist. The winner was to
have permission to continue publishing his own magazine.
Roché lost the game, and consequently The Blind Man ceased
publication after two issues.” In: Stephen C. Foster,
DadaArtifacts (exhibition catalogue), University of Iowa
Museum of Art, Iowa City, 1978.

. As John Held recounts in his article titled “Assembling
Magazines’ on page 18 of this catalogue, there was another mag-
azine titled Spawn which in its editorial for their March 1917
issue (one month before the first issue of The Blind Man), lays out
a similar open editorial policy for this “cooperative periodical
managed by contributors.” My lack of information about this
magazine precludes me from commenting further, however, it
would seem to be based on a very similar jury/editor-free strate-
gy as that of the first exhibition of the Society of Independent
Artists and The Blind Man. Held’s quote from the Spawn editori-
al comes from its original listing in Howardena Pindell’s excel-
lent chronology of artists’ periodicals, titled “Alternative Space:
Artists’ Periodicals,’ The Print Collectors Newsletter, Sept/Oct,
1977, p. 96-121.

10. Although my emphasis in this text concentrates on magazines

coming out of the 20th century international avant-gardes, |
suspect that there is a parallel, and largely undocumented, tra-
dition of cooperatively edited magazines arising out of networks
of people unconnected to this international coterie. An inter-
esting article detailing one magazine that
sits squarely within this tradition
appeared in the International Herald
Tribune, June 1-2, 1996, p. 6. Written by
Roderick Conway Morris and titled “A
Homemade Arts Magazine,’ it details the
rediscovery of the Italian magazine
Lucciola (Firefly) which was published
from 1908-1926. Edited by Lina Caico and
produced monthly by a group of Italian
women, Lucciola was “entirely handwrit-
ten and illustrated with drawings, paint-
ings and photographs, and existed as a
single copy that was posted from sub-
scriber to subscriber...” One of the condi-
tions of becoming a subscriber was that
they should also be contributors, thus one
could call Lucciola a one-issue assem-
bling. Morris, having surveyed the sub-
scriber list at the back of each volume,
concludes that the women contributed to similar periodicals in
Germany (Parva Favilla) and another in France (Mouche
Volante).

11.Barbara Moore and John Hendricks, “The Page as Alternative

Space 1950 to 1969,’ in Joan Lyons (ed), Artists’ Books: A
Critical Anthology and Source Book, New York: Visual Studies
Workshop, 1985, p. 88.

12.This description from: Richard Candida Smith, Utopia and

Dissent, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995, p. 232.

13.Michael McClure, “On Semina,’ in Wallace Berman: Support

the Revolution (exhibition catalogue), Institute of Contemporary
Art, Amsterdam, 1992, p. 60.

14.Jackson MacLow, “How Maciunas Met the New York Avant

Garde,’ in Art & Design, #28, 1993, p. 38.

15.A consistent feature in the publishing process of many experi-

mental publications that are made up of individually printed
sheets, in particular assemblings, is the collective and social
nature of the publication process. At each point in this process,
from the soliciting of works from individual artists and the shap-
ing of a collective presence in the publication, to the final party
in which the publication is hand collated, there is a process of
gathering’ (literally and metaphorically). From this perspective
Jackson MacLow, offers an insight into why some of the copies of
An Anthology had collating mistakes. “When all the pages had
been finally printed, I organised collating parties, where many
poets, composers, musicians and other artists and hangers-on
gave their labour to get the pages together. (Because of the abun-
dance of soft drugs supplied by some of the participants, we
ended up with a number of miscollated copies).’ In: Jackson
MacLow, “How Maciunas Met the New York Avant Garde,’ in Art
& Design, #28, 1993, p. 45.

16. Larry Miller, “Transcript of the videotaped interview with George

Maciunas by Larry Miller, March 24, 1978,” in Fluxus etc.,
Addenda 1, (exhibition catalogue), New York: Ink, 1983, p. 15.

17.Barbara Moore, “Seminal Artists’ Books and Periodicals,”

Backworks, Sales List: L106, nd., unpaginated.

18.George Maciunas, “1962/63 Letter to Tomas Schmidt,’ in Fluxus

etc./Addendum II, (exhibition catalogue), Gilbert Silverman,
1983, p. 157. [My attention to this statement was drawn by Clive
Phillpott’s article, “Fluxus: Magazines,
Manifestoes, Multum in Parvo,’ in:
Fluxus, (exhibition catalogue),
Museum of Modern Art, 1988, p. 10.]
Definition from: The American Heri-
tage Dictionary, Boston: Houghton
Mifflin Co., 1985.

Barbara Moore, “Seminal Artists’ Books
ey and Periodicals,’ Backworks, Sales List:
SO L106, nd., unpaginated.

Clearly, the egalitarian ethos embodied
in these conditions was formulated in
direct opposition to the norms that pre-
vailed when artists sought entry into
the established art world.

In 1970 there were 2 correspondence art
shows, in 1975 there were 22 and by
1980 this figure had expanded to 126.
Source: John Held, Jr, International
Artist Cooperation: Mail Art Shows,
1970-1985, Dallas: Dallas Public Library, 1986.

23.The following references are for the few publications that focus

on assembling magazines beyond the cursory level:

Richard Kostelanetz (ed), Assembling Assembling, New York:
Assembling Press, 1978.

International Artists-Magazines (exhibition catalogue), Art
Niirnberg 6-Art Fair International ‘91, editor Jurgen Olbrich
Nurnberg, 1991.

Géza Perneczky, The Magazine Network, K6ln: Soft Geometry,
1993.

Networking Artists & Poets: Assemblings from the Ruth &
Marvin Sackner Archive of Concrete & Visual Poetry (exhibi-
tion catalogue), editor Craig Saper, University of Pennsylvania
Library, 1997.

Tony.Ryan@ utas.edu.au

SUBJECT: india

REPORT FOR 1997 SUMMER RESEARCH GRANT
The following text will be included in the video enclosed
as well as tape taken at a local nursing home:

he had always been interested in death.
It was one of the many taboos of her
childhood. Like food, sex, money , feel-
ings and joy, it was shrouded in a mys-
tery and silence which fueled her
curiosity and terror. Was it because she

went to a catholic grade school next to a graveyard

and spent noon lunch breaks walking through there

with a group of girlfriends talking about fingernails

found lodged in coffin lids, leftovers from the dead

who were buried alive ... talking about flooded

coffins floating in the graveyard a long, long time

ago. All of this while the boys

played red rover. Was it death or

the crucifix that interested her

most. She obsessed over christ

bleeding and gaunt, looked at it,

compulsively confessed her sins

every saturday afternoon, made

every Lenten friday ritual called

stations of the cross and forgot

about the resurrection. Her grand-

parents died and they were laid

out, embalmed and presented as if

sleeping. At least she was allowed

to see the dead. When her brother

in law died of a brain tumor at

home, she observed the stages of

death ... his feet got cold and blue, them legs, then

hands and arms, and yet he sounded an unintelligi-

ble goodbye to her with his voice and eyes. But still

it was a mystery, fueling her curiosity. It was close

but not close enough. When her ex-husband was

shot in the face, death came closer. She massaged

his cold feet, kissed the cheek that no longer existed

because it was shot off. Her mother soon after

became her death teacher, dying in a unique way,

allowing her to be present while repetitive sounds

poured continuously from her open mouth for 12

hours. Her mother sang her death and her daughter

was able to hear. She was getting closer. She had

seen, touched, heard and tried to follow her medita-

tion teachers good advice to die daily ... that is, stop

the clock, let go, meditate ... and when he died and

was cremated in front of his students, she wondered

if she would be able to ever see again. But death per-

sisted. She wanted more ... to know more. Feel more

... that was the problem, she couldn't feel it. She

wanted death to teach her to feel. The summer of

1997 she went to India, to the city of death, the city
of light, Benares. For some Hindus, the train stops in
Benares because to die in this city assures an end to
re-incarnation and liberation or moksha is guaran-
teed. It took two years to prepare for the trip. She got
a grant, took every immunization possible, went for
travel counseling and read voraciously. Her friend
and mentor, a 73 year old Jain woman went with
her, both needing each other...the beginner and the
experienced one, interdependent. They stayed in
Ahmnabad with her friend’s sister for two weeks,
giving her a chance to get used to cows in the road,
third world sanitation facilities, the monsoon season
and dispensability of human life. That is, to take
any form of transportation in India or even walk on

- the roads is an act of faith and a rhythmic, fatalistic

game of chicken where you realize that you are not
special, hardly memorable and literally just one
more mouth to feed in this country of 850 million
humans surviving day to day. She was sobered by
the anonymity and insistence that
waking up alive was enough, eat-
ing was enough, going to the bath-
room was enough, wearing clean
clothes and communicating well
with those close to her ... were all
jewels to be cherished. India was
spiritually invigorating. Rains and
washed out train tracks stalled her
plans but eventually she arrived in
Benares ... For health reasons her
friend could not go with her so she
went alone, having made a few
calls to a man in that city who
worked as a research assistant for
Americans, asking him to arrange
for a place to stay and for a videographer for her
research. One of the most compelling journeys of
her life had begun because as she aged, she found
that she was more conscious of consequences,
germs, conspiracy and her own death which seemed
to be travelling swiftly in her direction. Braving jet
airways, Indian Airlines and the Delhi Airport she
arrived in Benares where a driver greeted her, hold-
ing a sign with her name on it. She felt safe for
awhile. But the 45 minute trip from the airport ina
smallish van was another test of faith. With adrenal
glands already pushed to the limit, they gushed
even more fright/flight juice into her already over-
worked bloodstream.Would the van hit that cow,
or that baby sitting in the road. Would the car be hit
by that other truck careening out of control. Cars,
scooters, autorickshaws came within 3 inches of each
other and no one wore seat belts, helmets or shoes.
Each vehicle carried at least 6 passengers, mom,
dad, four kids, grandmother and a baby up front
screeching and laughing with delight. A western

horror show. Remembering her thesis and goal ... to
better understand death, ... she gulped, incorporated
the situation she was in and repeated an inner
monologue and command that always said, “You
asked for this, now surrender, nobody forced you to
come here”. That self-instruction allowed her to just
watch and give up all rights to safety and the west-
ern model of correctness. The driver took her to the
research assistant, a tall, elegant Brahmin who had
studied anthropology at Benares
Hindu University and she told him
of her plan. “I want to study elders
in India, noticing how they are inte-
grated into family life, never seem-
ing to retire. They seem to be respect-
ed, not isolated and work hard on
life’s greatest mystery, their upcom-
ing death. I would like to videotape
a hospice in Benares, Mumuksha
Bhavan, so that i can experience a
place where elders wait for their
approaching death in an atmos-
phere of prayer, expectation and the
support of the community.” She
went on and told the research assis-
tant more, “I want to experience
what happens when someone dies,
and is carried through the city streets
of Benares and is then cremated on
the burning ghats”. He explained
that the Ganges river is considered
so sacred that the polluting and hid-
den aspects of death are transformed
by the river’s presence. She listened
to him and knew that she had come
home, that finally, death would be
unveiled. But she didn’t realize that
she would have to die a bit more before she was
allowed to make friends with death, because doesn’t
the homeopathic doctor prescribe snake venom to
cure a snake bite ... death would cure her of death.
That night she slept with 45 bed bugs and the next

day they went to the chief of police to get his per- .

mission to videotape cremations. He fed them,
something that would never happen in America.
And he seemed pleased with her project. But he
smiled at everyone and everything, a smile she
could not de-code, terror had not yet set in, nor had
a bowel movement for 17 days. A three and one half
hour boat trip down the Ganges River the next day
dislodged her from spectator to participant. Should
she look at the seven men defecating about 20 feet
away from the boat on a green, well fertilized patch
of earth ..? Cultural shocks brought more questions.
How could these worshippers stand the scrutiny of
their morning ablutions in the Ganges, tourist sea-
son after tourist season ... scrutiny by Americans,

Germans, Koreans, Norwegians taking photos of them
washing, bathing, praying defecating, gargling in
the Ganges, year after year? She was beginning to
understand aesthetic ethics and the reasons why
some artists choose to quiet their curiosity at home,
foregoing the invitation to become a cultural impe-
rialist, a cultural colonist, an image thief. Wishing
that she had thought through her impulse to travel
to a foreign country for her art, she asked more
questions of herself ... should I look
or not look? Not look at the wild pig
nudging the little girl’s ass and eating
her feces as it dropped to the earth ...
she saw that outside Bombay.
Should she wonder where the
women defecated ... or did they. She
certainly hadn’t. Should she look
closely at the thonged male bodies of
worshippers, washing in the Ganges.
After all it is the city of lingams and
obviously these people were not
puritans. It was too much. The desire
to see and not look, at life, and then
death came again, three feet from the
boat ... a bloated, headless, bluish,
one breasted woman floated by. She
stopped breathing, didn’t even con-
sider taking a photo and remem-
bered her mantra “This is why you
came here, to learn about death.
Surrender.” The other American
woman in the boat seemed unfazed
and said the body, a once living
woman, could have been a victim of
rape, abortion, family violence or a
mafia murder. She intuited a botched
mastectomy since one breast had
been cut off but maybe the turtles, imported to eat
half burned bodies, had eaten the missing breast.
Silence. Then 10 minutes later, a headless, bloated,
blue dead infant came by. At first someone
announced, “Here comes a dead dog”, but as it got
closer, it became obvious, although at that point, a
dog, a baby ... what’s the difference. Death was
becoming death. Now she was in pure witness mode,
not thinking, not feeling, not talking, not document-
ing. She had been reduced to silence and terror and
attention and realized that she was getting her post
doctorate in a subject that she couldn’t even name.
She was shaken to the core although death was not
yet her ally or friend. That night she slept with mos-
quitoes and bedbugs (maybe they would bite her
and she would die of sleeping sickness), and repeated
a litany of prayers that sounded more like bargain-
ing than praying ... “If I make it back to America
safely, I will never, never, never ever again ... fill in
the blank”, and “I will donate 100 dollars to ... fill in

the blank...” She called on Jesus, her meditation
teacher ... her friends, good memories all night, for
many nights, even though her cowering and infan-
tile game playing with the almighty made her sick
while bringing comfort to her desperation.
Wondering if she would be thrown into the Ganges
if she didn’t correctly respect the traditions of this
ancient city with its rules that state that only men go
to cremations, she swallowed her feminism when
the research assistant and videographer went off,
without her, to document the bodies being carried
through the narrow streets while the stretcher bear-
ers chanted, “nam ram satya hai, nam ram satya
hai”. She would go on her own to those places and
review the video footage knowing that she would
edit it and everything would work into the collage
and final installation which hopefully would func-
tion as a call to meditation. Having heard her moth-
er make her promise that she never be put into a
nursing home, she was charged with the task of
bringing prayer, japa or repetition of sacred sounds
and positively respecting elders to every nursing
home in America, just in case she had to be put in
one some day. For she envisioned that she would die
in an atmosphere of meditation, surrounded by
other elders in an ideal setting ... a wonderful nurs-
ing home. Elders would be praying, saying mantras,
just like India. She knew that she was designing her
retirement and death. And to incise death even
more deeply into her image bank she spent hours at
the burning ghats even though she was a woman,
she was compelled to see the place where 100 cre-
mations are performed each day. The place where
bodies are first immersed in the Ganges then burned
and returned to the Ganges as ashes or as partially
burned bodies, depending on the amount of wood
the family can afford. She watched. And felt and
brushed against stretchers carrying dead bodies ...
she noticed how feet burned, smelled the air to see if
burning bodies smelled, watched as skulls were
crushed with a stick by the male chief mourners so
their relative’s spirit could fly free. She watched, felt,
chatted, gasped, moved from shock to surrender,
graduating from Benares. For Benares was healing
her of death. Generously, dear Benares let her see
enough cremations, enough life being respected yet
dispensed with. She saw young Benares boys hang-
ing out at the burning ghats the way kids in
America hang out at malls and they helped her
lighten up about death because they were teasing a
passing goat to erection and insisting on life. It
made her laugh. And made her realize that she had
seen enough ancient rituals and temples and life-
force to tolerate the truth and terror of her own mor-
tality. Thank you Benares. I will never forget.
What's next?
Linda Montano

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Or andpa

you were not hig on words
especialy not big words

you said common things

but they meant a lot

you were not embarrassed to say
| love you

i guess you learned that in the orphanage

with your brother
i loved you

i do

always wil

death is funny
but nothing died with your death
except you

what can i say More than that

i guess you would fave rather had
me write a poem about grandma
that’s what i can say
your life was hers
her life was yours
that’s who you were
no more yelow tears.

Anthony Lucero

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www. wenet.net/~ Pynoman

someone else who loved you
by ray heinrich

we never had the chance

i looked at you in the shower

it was one of those open showers
in an army barracks

i loved you

from my top bunk

looking at you as you dressed
knowing

that if i ever mentioned

how | loved your smooth curves
and the way

you laughed at what | said
and when |

took your hand

it Seemed to you

that | was shaking it

but | was really holding it

and i could only go to sleep
four feet above you

by listening to your breath
in and out

in and out

| love you

i write your words

one after the other

each time you mention me
and you

like me a lot

like to have me around
we’re good buddies

and i feel i might break
keeping this in

but | never did

and maybe you'll see this now
and maybe you'll see my name
and maybe

since you're older

and the times have changed
you won't think of me

as something wrong

just someone else who loved you

ray(@s cri bbledyne. com

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don’t know why artists think fame is all that hard to get, or some-
thing worthy of seeking. Why, it’s as easy as falling off a log, as
easy as dying. You just have to surrender to the forces of gravity
and decay. The mainstream entertainment, by it sheer mass, has
always sucked artists out of the fringe, the underground. That is

7

: .

i

AREAS
Sor esemeenr

tricked, bribed into “the mainstream”. It is tragic not only in personal
terms for the individual artists, but in terms of the big picture. When an
artist sets herself up as being an artist who goes beyond the normal
frame, who tells the hard truths, who explores the unknown...not to be
hip, or controversial, or to be interesting...but because that is how our
emia ' 5,80 it has to be done...when that kind of
ley, personal fame, and/or glamour while still
-garde art, it is denying society the real evolu-
il avant-garde. It tells people, audiences and
-garde is just a branch of the entertainment
es, goals, reality as television, rock music,
iis is like telling people a can of Slim Fast is a
1. It is a lie. And the scary dangerous thing is
this lie.
jociety’s attempt to rechannel the change com-
} what an “art expert” told me: “Your work
pesn’'t address the concerns...(which are a) part
whether it be mainstream or ‘alternative’..cura-
tors and presenters are (not) obliged to show
it.” She went on to say that | should stay
“in (my) own sphere”, and that | don’t
need the public channels that galleries
represent. Which is true. But
galleries and the people who
think what is in galleries is
the full range of art need
the artists, not the
Le reverse. The magic of pri-
vate performance is need-
ed to expand the narrow,
shallow river of “the current art dia-
logue”, controlled both in content and
depth by the art experts. Fortunately, there
are galleries which are willing to go into the
cal unknown represented by private perfor-
res.
Another way society tries to deball the magical
sr of private performance is to co-opt it by
normal reality. What happened to Paul
yple. Paul is, or was, the best of the modern
n the 70’s, he did performances in run down
to a rubber-masked trickster who called forth
7 meals of dog food, mayo and catsup..., of
of hard-ons dangling out of girls’ underwear
thole and down throat and up the nose..., of
ed in mayo..., of walking bloodied barefoot on
video in another motel room. But most ran out
pecial kind of shock. It is not the shock of when
y or when a guy exposes himself. It is not a
act. It is more like culture shock. It is a reality
rent realities come together, collide, and com-
nd Paul’s pieces. Most people could not handle
incredible amounts of uplifting energy.
ul had been discovered by the art scene. He

A FILM BY oe See Acisco Art Institute to do a performance. The

5 ',

who is not familiar with the hidden channels of change.
So it is always tragic to see artists who are known for doing under-
ground, shamanistic, and/or risky art get sucked, seduced, absorbed,

FRANK MOORE

tudents. Paul did his rituals, which in the past
om, shocked and physically disturbed most
audience laughed and clapped at everything
drank catsup with him to show how hip they
no magic, no colliding of realities. Paul

5 cut off from his private, magical roots by being
lw magician into a hot artist.

ifter he felt the loss of the magic but did not
\fter a few more performances, he stopped per-
oss to us all. He was defeated because he
nportance of his private magic, but how much it
threatened normal reality. *

First appeared in Movement Research, Performance Journal #16, Spring 1998

Fiend

out of FUEL

by Frank Moore

copyright 1986-1994

PARE!

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Published by
NITER- KCELATIONS

P.O. Box 11445
Berkeley, CA 94712

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don’t know why artists think fame is all that hard to get, or some- _ tricked, bribed into “the mainstream”. It is tragic not only in personal

thing worthy of seeking. Why, it’s as easy as falling off a log, as terms for the individual artists, but in terms of the big picture. When an
easy as dying. You just have to surrender to the forces of gravity artist sets herself up as being an artist who goes beyond the normal

and decay. The mainstream entertainment, by it sheer mass, has frame, who tells the hard truths, who explores the unknown...not to be
always sucked artists out of the fringe, the underground. That is hip, or controversial, or to be interesting...but because that is how our

a mat is on the otherwise bare
performing area. harsh bright lights.
jim lies in his world of the mat.

| lie here in my universe of the mat,
my bed. | always have been here lying in my universe forever,
forever. My mat, my pillow, my sheet, my blanket ... for
countless force-fed meals, enemas, baths, shaves, haircuts,
pissed-on sheets ... many many harsh-lighted days, many,
many semi-dark nights. Outside my universe there are bony
fingers, blotch-skin creatures. Sometimes they invaded my
universe ... the sickly-sweet smelling ones. They “take care
of me”... they handle me like they handle my pillow. Their
voices are high, loud, flat. Sometimes they lie on beds beside
mine, moaning and crying for alone many many, then they
get quiet and others of them carry the still ones away. There
are always new ones, but they are always the same. There are
different bony fingers who invade my universe, who Strip
me, probe me stretch me until it hurts ... do strange things
to me like rubbing ice on my body then brushing me hard.
They talk to me in funny ways ... loud and flat. They say, “We
are doing this for your own good.” They don’t think |
understand what they are saying. | don’t understand most of
their words. But | understand enough, | understand | am not
a Mister, a Mrs., a Miss, a Nurse, a Doctor. | understand | am
not bony fingers. They can keep their universe of bony
fingers. | am not going out of my universe of the mat. |
understand enough. Along long, when I cried out, they made
me numb.1!do notlike being numb. In my universe of the mat,
lam not numb. But they said crying out was not “appropriate
behavior’. | do not think appropriate behavior is good.

who is not familiar with the hidden channels of change.
So it is always tragic to see artists who are known for doing under-
ground, shamanistic, and/or risky art get sucked, seduced, absorbed,

5, so it has to be done...when that kind of
ley, personal fame, and/or glamour while still
-garde art, it is denying society the real evolu-
il avant-garde. It tells people, audiences and
-garde is just a branch of the entertainment
es, goals, reality as television, rock music,
iis is like telling people a can of Slim Fast is a
J. It is a lie. And the scary dangerous thing is
this lie.
jociety’s attempt to rechannel the change com-
| what an “art expert” told me: “Your work
pesn’t address the concerns...(which are a) part
whether it be mainstream or ‘alternative’..cura-
tors and presenters are (not) obliged to show
it.” She went on to say that | should stay
“in (my) own sphere”, and that | don’t
need the public channels that galleries
represent. Which is true. But
galleries and the people who
think what is in galleries is
the full range of art need
the artists, not the
Le reverse. The magic of pri-
bi vate performance is need-
/ ed to expand the narrow,
shallow river of “the current art dia-
logue”, controlled both in content and
depth by the art experts. Fortunately, there
are galleries which are willing to go into the
cal unknown represented by private perfor-
res.
Another way society tries to deball the magical
sr of private performance is to co-opt it by
normal reality. What happened to Paul
iple. Paul is, or was, the best of the modern
n the 70's, he did performances in run down
to a rubber-masked trickster who called forth
7 meals of dog food, mayo and catsup..., of
of hard-ons dangling out of girls’ underwear
thole and down throat and up the nose..., of
ed in mayo..., of walking bloodied barefoot on
video in another motel room. But most ran out
pecial kind of shock. It is not the shock of when
y or when a guy exposes himself. It is not a
act. It is more like culture shock. It is a reality
rent realities come together, collide, and com-
nd Paul’s pieces. Most people could not handle
incredible amounts of uplifting energy.
ul had been discovered by the art scene. He
Acisco Art Institute to do a performance. The
tudents. Paul did his rituals, which in the past
om, shocked and physically disturbed most
audience laughed and clapped at everything
drank catsup with him to show how hip they
no magic, no colliding of realities. Paul
5 cut off from his private, magical roots by being
lw magician into a hot artist.
ifter he felt the loss of the magic but did not
\fter a few more performances, he stopped per-
oss to us all. He was defeated because he
nportance of his private magic, but how much it

threatened normal reality. *

First appeared in Movement Research, Performance Journal #16, Spring 1998

ED,

Aa my) / 428

Everything that is not appropriate
behavior makes me feel. But | understand enough to stop
crying when the bony fingers are around. Stop making any
sound, any move when they are around. They stopped
making me numb. | understand enough. | discovered a way
of rubbing myself that makes me warm, makes me feel good.
Bony fingers slapped me away from feeling good. Not
appropriate behavior. | understand enough. | do appropriate
behavior in the harsh light when they are around. | am still,
quiet. In my universe of the mat. | do not even look into their
world. |am busy creating within me. But when the harsh light
goes and the semi-darkness comes ... when only the still or
moaning bony fingers are around ... | move, | laugh, | cry, |
rub my body and good feeling comes. Notso loud or so much
that the harsh light, the bony fingers, and their numbness
come back. But just enough. And by rubbing, | knowl am not
bony fingers.

In the harsh light, they treat me
just like my pillow. They change me just like they change my
pillow. Always fast like they need to move on. Sometimes,
- : the special bony fingers, the prodders, stand over me and say

Pr a | should come into their universe, what they are doing to me
\/WA

will help me. They talk like they talk to my pillow. Why should

| want to go into their world of greys, where everyone wears

Af SS —~ white? In my universe of the mat, | lie on smooth warm
KINS Brie softness and create the brightest colors and the sweetest
B>kx. \ sounds to surround me. But | am not worried. Bony fingers

ec : . ;
Y never really believe | ever can enter their universe.

| only wish | was not the only soft
fingers ... |wishthere was another soft fingers in my universe
of the mat... someone to share in the bright colors and sweet
sounds ... someone | could laugh with, cry with, move with,

|
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AWS “fy, 4

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Na

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xX

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= oe

who is not familiar with the hidden channels of change.

ground, shamanistic, and/or risky art get sucked, seduced, absorbed,

don’t know why artists think fame is all that hard to get, or some- _ tricked, bribed into “the mainstream”. It is tragic not only in personal

thing worthy of seeking. Why, it’s as easy as falling off a log, as terms for the individual artists, but in terms of the big picture. When an
easy as dying. You just have to surrender to the forces of gravity artist sets herself up as being an artist who goes beyond the normal

and decay. The mainstream entertainment, by it sheer mass, has frame, who tells the hard truths, who explores the unknown...not to be
always sucked artists out of the fringe, the underground. That is hip, or controversial, or to be interesting...but because that is how our

share good feeling with ... someone who would be with me
on the mat, touch me not like touching my pillow, not like
pulling things out of me or to make me different. But just
because we are the only soft fingers in the universe of the
mat.

There is a new prodder. Do not
look at bony fingers. But catch sight of same white. Miss
Roberts talking to a pillow called Mr. Merrill. Same words
about “to make you better”. But sound of voice is somehow
different, softer. The touch is still changing the pillow of me.
But not bony fingers! | sneak a peak. Same white, but
different. The skin is soft like myskin. The smellis almost like
my smell. Almost enough to try to open my universe to this
new soft fingers. But words came, the same words as bony
fingers. The prodding soft fingers strips me bare just like she
is changing the pillow of me. Easier to probe my pillow of a
body. The prodding fingers does the same hurting “make

you better” exercises on me as the other bony fingers before.
And then the going somewhere else fast. And the touching
the pillow of me, instead of touching me.

When the soft fingers and the
harsh light were gone, | cried louder than before. Ido notcare
if they make me numb. Maybe numbness is better if soft
fingers are the same as bony fingers, if soft fingers also want
me to go into grey and white, if soft fingers does not want to
be with me, then numbness is better.

Soft fingers keeps coming back.
At first, rushing to somewhere else, trying to pull me into the
grey universe. | know how to fight against that bony fingers
trick. But! like her soft warm skin touching me... like my soft
warm sheet under me. Sometime soft fingers forgets about

So it is always tragic to see artists who are known for doing under-

5, so it has to be done...when that kind of
ley, personal fame, and/or glamour while still
-garde art, it is denying society the real evolu-
il avant-garde. It tells people, audiences and
-garde is just a branch of the entertainment
es, goals, reality as television, rock music,
iis is like telling people a can of Slim Fast is a
1. It is a lie. And the scary dangerous thing is
this lie.
jociety’s attempt to rechannel the change com-
} what an “art expert” told me: “Your work
pesn’'t address the concerns...(which are a) part
whether it be mainstream or ‘alternative’..cura-
tors and presenters are (not) obliged to show
it.” She went on to say that | should stay
“in (my) own sphere”, and that | don’t
need the public channels that galleries
represent. Which is true. But
galleries and the people who
think what is in galleries is
the full range of art need
the artists, not the
Le reverse. The magic of pri-
() vate performance is need-
/ ed to expand the narrow,
shallow river of “the current art dia-
logue”, controlled both in content and
depth by the art experts. Fortunately, there
are galleries which are willing to go into the
cal unknown represented by private perfor-
res.
Another way society tries to deball the magical
sr of private performance is to co-opt it by
normal reality. What happened to Paul
iple. Paul is, or was, the best of the modern
n the 70’s, he did performances in run down
to a rubber-masked trickster who called forth
7 meals of dog food, mayo and catsup..., of
of hard-ons dangling out of girls’ underwear
thole and down throat and up the nose..., of
ed in mayo..., of walking bloodied barefoot on
video in another motel room. But most ran out
pecial kind of shock. It is not the shock of when
y or when a guy exposes himself. It is not a
act. It is more like culture shock. It is a reality
rent realities come together, collide, and com-
nd Paul’s pieces. Most people could not handle
incredible amounts of uplifting energy.
ul had been discovered by the art scene. He
ncisco Art Institute to do a performance. The
tudents. Paul did his rituals, which in the past
om, shocked and physically disturbed most
audience laughed and clapped at everything
drank catsup with him to show how hip they
no magic, no colliding of realities. Paul
5 cut off from his private, magical roots by being
lw magician into a hot artist.
ifter he felt the loss of the magic but did not
\fter a few more performances, he stopped per-
oss to us all. He was defeated because he
nportance of his private magic, but how much it

threatened normal reality. *

First appeared in Movement Research, Performance Journal #16, Spring 1998

ED,

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As my) / 428

helping me, about making me a better person. For that
moment we are the only ones in the universe ... together.
Then soft fingers remembers the bony fingers and starts
touching me like a pillow again.

But the moments of being to-
gether grow. | like when she forgets and makes mistakes and
comes closer into my world. | like when she just sits on my
Mat... On Our mat ... and just looks at me, just listens to me.
| feel more and more like | can show her my moves, show her
my sounds. | like when soft fingers becameJane and | became
Jim. | like when Jane just lies on the mat and we just look at
each other, listen to each other, even when we really don’t
understand what meaning ... but we feel. | like it when Jane
starts making her own noises, not just bony words. | like
when Jane holds my hand. | like when Jane comes into my
world of dim light, when she wears colors bright, soft,
smooth flowing ... not bony fingers white ... and even her hair
is flowing strangely soft. | like when Jane comes wearing the
colors soft even in the harsh light. | like when Jane makes the
harsh light go away for a while, when Jane rocks me, when
Jane rubs my head. I like when Jane slowly takes all the colors
off. She is soft everywhere. She lies next to me on the mat.
She makes soft sounds and soft moves, just like me. She is
just like me now. Two soft fingers on the mat. I like whenJane
lets me rub Jane’s back, when Jane calls me Jim. I like it when
we are in our universe of the mat sharing not appropriate
behavior ... laughing, crying, making good feeling come.
Rocking or holding hands made different good feelings come
together, making soft sounds together, together making
good feelings come.

But suddenly Jane was gone.
| was alone in happiness. Jane would come back into the
happiness with me on the mat. So | was happy.

don’t know why artists think fame is all that hard to get, or some- _ tricked, bribed into “the mainstream”. It is tragic not only in personal

thing worthy of seeking. Why, it’s as easy as falling off a log, as terms for the individual artists, but in terms of the big picture. When an
easy as dying. You just have to surrender to the forces of gravity artist sets herself up as being an artist who goes beyond the normal

and decay. The mainstream entertainment, by it sheer mass, has frame, who tells the hard truths, who explores the unknown...not to be
always sucked artists out of the fringe, the underground. That is hip, or controversial, or to be interesting...but because that is how our

But when Jane came the next day,
she was in bony white. Jane had become like bony fingers
again. She said what we were doing was not appropriate
behavior. She used words like romance and sexual that | did
not understand. Jane left. The numbness came back without
the bony fingers giving me anything.

Jane came back as bony fingers.
| kept rising out of the numbness in hope whenever Jane
came, but then fell deeper and deeper.

Jane came. | could not hold the
crying back. | cried in the harsh light. Then Jane cried too. She
made the harsh light go away. She came back into our
universe of the mat and rocked me. Jane told me to teach her
the noises and the moves of our universe of the mat. Now |
have another soft fingers, Jane, on the mat, in the universe
with me, together with me.

Together we can expand the uni-
verse beyond the mat. Jane can bring other soft fingers in.
The bony fingers begin to fade. | can see, begin to see colors
beyond the mat, begin to hear laughter beyond the mat. Jane
says she and | together will explore the universe that is
outside. She and | are happy.

who is not familiar with the hidden channels of change.
So it is always tragic to see artists who are known for doing under-
ground, shamanistic, and/or risky art get sucked, seduced, absorbed,

5, so it has to be done...when that kind of
ley, personal fame, and/or glamour while still
-garde art, it is denying society the real evolu-
il avant-garde. It tells people, audiences and
Egarde is just a branch of the entertainment
es, goals, reality as television, rock music,
iis is like telling people a can of Slim Fast is a
1. It is a lie. And the scary dangerous thing is
this lie.
jociety’s attempt to rechannel the change com-
| what an “art expert” told me: “Your work
pesn’'t address the concerns...(which are a) part
whether it be mainstream or ‘alternative’..cura-
tors and presenters are (not) obliged to show
it.” She went on to say that | should stay
“in (my) own sphere”, and that | don’t
need the public channels that galleries
represent. Which is true. But
galleries and the people who
think what is in galleries is
the full range of art need
the artists, not the
Le reverse. The magic of pri-
vate performance is need-
/ ed to expand the narrow,
shallow river of “the current art dia-
logue”, controlled both in content and
depth by the art experts. Fortunately, there
are galleries which are willing to go into the
cal unknown represented by private perfor-
res.
Another way society tries to deball the magical
»r of private performance is to co-opt it by
normal reality. What happened to Paul
yple. Paul is, or was, the best of the modern
n the 70's, he did performances in run down
to a rubber-masked trickster who called forth
7 meals of dog food, mayo and catsup..., of
of hard-ons dangling out of girls’ underwear
thole and down throat and up the nose..., of
ed in mayo..., of walking bloodied barefoot on
video in another motel room. But most ran out
pecial kind of shock. It is not the shock of when
y or when a guy exposes himself. It is not a
act. It is more like culture shock. It is a reality
rent realities come together, collide, and com-
nd Paul’s pieces. Most people could not handle
incredible amounts of uplifting energy.
ul had been discovered by the art scene. He
Acisco Art Institute to do a performance. The
tudents. Paul did his rituals, which in the past
om, shocked and physically disturbed most
audience laughed and clapped at everything
drank catsup with him to show how hip they
no magic, no colliding of realities. Paul
5 cut off from his private, magical roots by being
lw magician into a hot artist.
ifter he felt the loss of the magic but did not
\fter a few more performances, he stopped per-
oss to us all. He was defeated because he
nportance of his private magic, but how much it

threatened normal reality. *

First appeared in Movement Research, Performance Journal #16, Spring 1998

ED,

“One of the most erotic things I've ever seen.”

HONORABLE MENTION AWARD, FEATURE LENGTH VIDEO EAST BAY VIDEO

“ FESTIVAL ed “It (‘Out of Isolation’) was the best film, in many respects, that
| have ever seen. It is a classic, underground masterpiece, and | was deeply
impressed by (Frank Moore’s) sense of movement, aesthetic, humanity and
COMIN mT ae aU hype (‘Out oflsolation’) “stayed
in my mind far more persistently than | first expected, at least based on what the film-
makers with millions of dollars at their disposal call ‘production values’ and ‘professional

polish’. What most of these high-priced pieces lack, of course, is substance and a
genuinely different — and deeply challenging — point of view. Something to shake up,
shatter, shame, inspire, perspire, ponder and play with long after the cassette gets
rewound. Yourfilms did that for me: they are definitely not easy toabsorb, follow, or even
‘enjoy’ in the ordinary pop-culture sense. But you don’t forget watching them, ever.”
SCOTT LANKFORD, FOOTHILL COLLEGE © Beuhitzeantclion maura cu:
‘Out of Isolation’ as it is revealed is truly unforgettable: the nurse’s everyday
American loneliness is so much sadder, so much more impenetrable than that
_ of the man she hopes to ‘cure.’ In this sense, the film makes a bold attempt to
break through the cultural/intellectual isolation of the viewer; to stretch our
imaginations in ways they have never been moved and stretched before due to
our own cradle-to-grave institutionalization within the rigid mindset of every-
day America. Which may explain why, even when the film seems painful to
watch, it remains powerful: it stretches the imagination in new and different,
sometimes painful directions.” SCOTT LANKFORD, FOOTHILL COLLEGE &
“A very powerful film.” JACK FOLEY @

© 1992 ,LABASiHt

don’t know why artists think fame is all that hard to get, or some-
thing worthy of seeking. Why, it’s as easy as falling off a log, as
easy as dying. You just have to surrender to the forces of gravity
and decay. The mainstream entertainment, by it sheer mass, has
always sucked artists out of the fringe, the underground. That is
just gravity. In reality, it takes a lot to enter, and to stay in, the
underground. The underground is where the real freedom and the
real ability to change society are to be found. This is why artists
CHOOSE the underground instead of the mainstream. This is also why,
when an artist is pulled into the mainstream, this freedom and ability
decay. In my own career, | have worked very hard to stay in the under-
ground...this work has been hard precisely because some of the pieces
have turned out to be “popular” (whatever that means!)...attracting the
mainstream sharks.

The mainstream has always tried to create a fake avant-garde with
fake controversies, fake taboos, fake “hipness’”, etc. to give the marks a
controlled fun-ride through a Disneyland to keep them
away from the real edge of life. This is because the
powers-that-be can not control or exploit
what is in the real avant-garde.

About every five years,
the fame makers “discover” me, v? fee
want to make me famous. | Ce
always play along. But | also
always do “the wrong thing”
to keep my work surfing just
below the “fame wave”. Fame
cripples art. But the sub-fame
level is where the hidden channels
of effecting, healing, changing, Ye
dreaming, myth-giving powers lie.

It is easier to stay in this
sub-fame level when you do private perfor-
mances than when you do public perfor-
mances...because in public performances layers
of seductions, limitation, consideration, taboos, morals, ways of being
politically correct are laid on the art and the artist by either the powers
of the establishment or the “alternative” power systems of the present
society or both. But | like the challenge of doing very public work with-
out surrendering to the fame manufacturers.

When | do a public piece, | am not swayed by how many people
come or by how many walk out, because | am still functioning, and root-
ed, in the channels of magical change that | became aware of by doing
private performances. This rooting in private rituals gives the artist free-
dom from, and weapons against, the corrupting concerns of money, fame,
competition, good taste, acceptance, and the search for an audience.
This freedom is important in shamanistic art, which is art that acts for
nonlinear change, because, by bringing new dreams, new myths, new
visions into society from the universal underworld, it radically changes
society. By being linked to a power system, be it establishment or alterna-
tive, the artist is trapped in a basic conflict of interest, because she has ©
aligned herself either with protecting the social system or with a certain
manner of change, when her true job is to carry the new visionary myths
from the gods into this world through her body.

When the artist is rooted in private rituals, it becomes clear that she
is not an agent for society, or some political movement, or the art gal-
leries and art “experts”, or even for her own individualistic imagination.
Instead, she is an agent of the gods, of dreams, of visions and myths.
This causes reactions in society, especially when the piece is public.

Karen Finley is criticized for limiting her audience because she
offends them by her words, anger, nudity. An artist who is rooted in the
private channels is not affected by this attempt to curb the power of the
art by strapping it to audience acceptance and agreement. The power of
a Karen Finley is the taboo-breaking energy she releases into society. This
societal pressure to tame art down, which usually sounds very reasonable
and comes even from liberal sources, is very hard for the artist to resist
who is not familiar with the hidden channels of change.

So it is always tragic to see artists who are known for doing under-
ground, shamanistic, and/or risky art get sucked, seduced, absorbed,

18 October, 1997

tricked, bribed into “the mainstream”. It is tragic not only in personal
terms for the individual artists, but in terms of the big picture. When an
artist sets herself up as being an artist who goes beyond the normal
frame, who tells the hard truths, who explores the unknown...not to be
hip, or controversial, or to be interesting...but because that is how our
tribal human being evolves, so it has to be done...when that kind of
artist then goes after money, personal fame, and/or glamour while still
claiming to be doing avant-garde art, it is denying society the real evolu-
tionary function of the real avant-garde. It tells people, audiences and
artists alike, that the avant-garde is just a branch of the entertainment
complex with the same rules, goals, reality as television, rock music,
Hollywood, and sports. This is like telling people a can of Slim Fast is a
balanced meal of real food. It is a lie. And the scary dangerous thing is
artists are buying/selling this lie.

Another example of society's attempt to rechannel the change com-
ing from shamanistic art is what an “art expert” told me: “Your work
is...not art...(because) it doesn’t address the concerns...(which are a) part
of the current art dialog, whether it be mainstream or ‘alternative’..cura-

tors and presenters are (not) obliged to show
it.” She went on to say that | should stay
“in (my) own sphere”, and that | don’t
need the public channels that galleries
represent. Which is true. But
galleries and the people who
think what is in galleries is
the full range of art need
the artists, not the
reverse. The magic of pri-
vate performance is need-
ed to expand the narrow,
shallow river of “the current art dia-
logue”, controlled both in content and
depth by the art experts. Fortunately, there
are galleries which are willing to go into the
magical unknown represented by private perfor-
mances.

Another way society tries to deball the magical
power of private performance is to co-opt it by
absorbing it back into the normal reality. What happened to Paul
McCarthy is a classic example. Paul is, or was, the best of the modern
shamanistic performers. In the 70's, he did performances in run down
motels. He transformed into a rubber-masked trickster who called forth
realities of vomit, of messy meals of dog food, mayo and catsup..., of
wearing women’s clothes...of hard-ons dangling out of girls’ underwear
fucking dolls, tubes up asshole and down throat and up the nose..., of
fucking alone in a motel bed in mayo..., of walking bloodied barefoot on
glass. Friends watched via video in another motel room. But most ran out
in shock. This shock is a special kind of shock. It is not the shock of when
a youngster uses obscenity or when a guy exposes himself. It is not a
reaction or an aggressive act. It is more like culture shock. It is a reality
shock. It is when two different realities come together, collide, and com-
bine. This happened around Paul’s pieces. Most people could not handle
it. But the shock released incredible amounts of uplifting energy.

By the early 80's, Paul had been discovered by the art scene. He
was invited to the San Francisco Art Institute to do a performance. The
big hall was packed with students. Paul did his rituals, which in the past
would have cleared the room, shocked and physically disturbed most
people. But this time, the audience laughed and clapped at everything
this clown did. They even drank catsup with him to show how hip they
were. There was no shock, no magic, no colliding of realities. Paul
stopped, defeated. He was cut off from his private, magical roots by being
transformed from an outlaw magician into a hot artist.

He told me the day after he felt the loss of the magic but did not
know how to get it back. After a few more performances, he stopped per-
forming...which is a great loss to us all. He was defeated because he
underrated not only the importance of his private magic, but how much it
threatened normal reality. *

by ee
FRANK
MOORE

First appeared in Movement Research, Performance Journal #16, Spring 1998

ED,

Everybody's Famous

Everybody's famous

the composer said, remembering

the words of the opera tenor

No! the critic answered

I mean the woman who performs

at Paradise Lounge is REALLY famous

she was on KPFA

her name was in THE EXPRESS

It all began when someone important

said that she was famous

But how can you tell?

when a name is a really big name

Not just a name like Frank Moore

you Know,

but an accepted in marble halls fame name,

visual nudeless art accepted on the all white walls of a Jesse Helms
castle fame

Art that is annotated.

Art about which someone wearing a success suit will say:

Don't you know, this artist is no longer associated with St Francis
ragamuffins?

He has become somebody!

The next step is, SHE says that HE
says that SHE’s famous

and so it was! In all the land
and now SHE says

she’s famous

and a talk show host

says she’s famous

for what?

for manufacturing

music, if must be contemporary
because it's odd enough, isn't it?
from recorded sounds and
she has a cute name

That's the main thing

It only takes

a catchy name.

and one person in the industry
to start

a myth

you Too

can be

among the

maybe not RICH

but famous

there’s millions like you.....

it's nothing.

but here’s the question!

How about, say, the heart

and what about say, the soul

which game would you rather play?
Here! Pick a role!

Say you had your fill of fame

as a little girl, or a little boy,

it just doesn’t mean that much

anymore, kind of a bore,

you were adored, you had show off time
riding bikes - no hands on the handlebars
as a child

applauded

trotted out at an early age to be sat like me,
almost disappearing with pigtails into the
large piano bench, at a grand piano

as a child performer

you had that thrill of fame

but running wild in the woods, for me,
was more fun.

No, you don’t need the fame game

but you do need

the passion

of the art itself,

turning yourself inside out

over and over to disgorge the

magic tricks

turning your talents physically

on their head many times

against the tide of possibilities,

for the passion

to create

or you can choose

EEG

a

on Sf™

to be an acclaimed author

with no new books

you can still talk

about the last one

because the role of fame

takes all your time

and you don't really write anymore.

Picasso said

it was better

before the fame came,
that’s when life

was really nice.

Jung said

it’s in the struggle
don't arrive

don't get there

don't complete the house
don’t reach that fame
keep paddling upstream
and hear the gushes
running of the rapids
dangerous rocks

all around you,
upstream

but for some

it’s the quiet pool

the elegant white tie
black tux

riding on a ghost pony
a white many muscled
prancing horse named fame
ride him to the grave
or ©)
choose

the underground and say:

Count me in

with the truly

nonfamous and

count me in

with the homeless

and the hardworking

family in West Oakland,

Count me in with the sinners

Lord knows I've sinned

Count me in

with the artists whose very lives

are a work of art

tapestries of bold, bright threads

that scream when it isn’t popular
to scream

Count me in

with those who

paddle upstream

and love it

Count me in

with those who give

one thousand per cent

for the privilege to create
for the need to create

for the joy to create

for the clay in your hands
for the words in your pen
for sound in your voice

for those who held your hand
in toughest times

for those who went before you
inspiring you, becoming you
and still with you

fame goes

to the seekers of fame
drowning in fame

incesting their fame

don't knock it

they need it!

And bless them

if they can handle it!

I choose the

Underground, the people
who are my kind of people
Who are in my blood

I was born to be a rebel
to be on the other side

to be with the poorest

to be with the questioners
to be with the raggelty taggelty
run sheep runners

and kick the canners

who never grew up

who don't want to be bored
with grown ups

and proper tuxedos.

WE

(c) 1997 Dorothy Jesse Beagle
(inspired by and read for TO(r) Reading celebrating
Frank Moore zine — Modern Times Books — SF. 6/27/97)

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1995 © BLAIR WILSON “1749

| wear my scars like badges.

These deep marks show through from under my skin
like war paint on an Apache chief.

Decorated with feathers, the skins of his prey.

| have a scar over my left Knee.

It's left over from a bout with poison ivy

| had after climbing a mountainside.

The four-inch long slice curves around my leg,
almost perfectly defining the muscles in my thigh.

| have a scar on my right shin.

| slipped on a patch of rocks and cut up the lower
half of my leg and filled it with gravel and dirt.
Joe poured hydrogen peroxide on my leg

and wrapped my wounds with paper towels
because the cuts were so wide spread.

An hour later | was on a plane home,

so | could tend to my wounds in greater detail.
Tend to my wounds in depth.

Now all that is left is a two-inch line down

the side of my leg. Although it wasn't a very
deep cut, it looks like it went straight to the bone.

|have a circular scar on my left calf,

From getting off a motorcycle and sliding

my leg over the scalding hot exhaust pipe.

It has been seven years since | gained that scar,

and with each year | see it fade away just a little.

| can still see it, but the memory is slowly slipping away.

My cat scratched me on my wrist once

when we had to give her medication.

Cats don't like taking pills, or having ointment
dabbed on and liquid poured over their wounds.
When giving her pills, we'd grab all her paws,
pull her head back by the nape of her neck,
pry her jaws wide open so the pill will fall back
and she is forced to swallow it:

But sometimes she'd move too much

and a paw would slip out of our grasp.

And now, over the bone of my left wrist,

a long thin scar stares at me defiantly.

| tell people that if they wake up

with bruises and cuts they don't remember,

then they must have had fun the night before.

But each marking, each scar is a story,

is Q memory. It is a way to remember how you lived.
And it is with these marks that | gauge my living.
It is with these marks that | Feel decorated.

Janet Kuypers

ccandd@shoutnet a

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5

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Se)

Howdy Frank,

I got your letter and the flyer announcing the
“Moore-LaBash" art show. That Strawberry Dance
Jam must have been great. When I get out I would
love to attend one of those. I hope your art show
went well. I'm hoping you will have covered it and
included maybe some pictures in TC(r)#7. I can't
wait to get the next issue. Thank you so much for
taking the time to drop me a line. It means a lot to
me. We don't have much to look forward to here, but
whenever I get a mag or note from you, I pass it
around so everyone can see it. Little things mean a
‘lot here, and to see a person who takes the time to
recognize that there are people incarcerated and
give them something to laugh at or a word of hope is
encouraging. I have it a lot better here than most
ents I'm in a dorm with about sixty guys.
verybody gets along. I have a friend here from
China who is teaching me Mandarin Chinese “what a
trip". We don't have cells and we can go out to the
day room or the TV room so it seems a little more
open than other prisons I've seen on TV. Hey, I gotta
ine for you it's kinda funny if you know the story
ehind it. This guy who never says he's sorry for
anything knocked over a hot cup of coffee and it
“ake on this black guy's head who was sleeping at
the time. The black guy (named Lewis) jumped up and
started screaming and running around in circles when
he finally figured out what happened (why he was all
wet and his head was burning) he said “Hey you
spilled hot coffee on me’! The guilty guy Mark says
“Well hell, you didn't have to scream so loud." An
that was it. Lewis vowed to get revenge. Seeing all of
i il inspired this little poem. I call it “Hot
offee”.

eenie meenie miney mo
ay hot coffee, watch him go
if he screams and runs away
well hell you didn't have to yell so loud
ou can Say.
ut late at night when you're asleep
around your bed this black man creeps
and spills hot coffee on your head
and makes you jump up from your bed
don't scream too loud or the guard you'll meet
just know for Lewis revenge was sweet.

I thought you might get a kick out of it. Most every-
one here is okay. We all have other names. TI helpe
this guy do a feasibility study on a aquaculture pro-
ject which entailed raising catfish. I picked up the
nickname “Catfish". We also have a Dirty Dave, Free
Willy, Poo-Poo Man (a Mexican who is always on the
toilet), Govenor Lewis (that's his real name), Elvis,
Hubba-Bubba (300 pound black guy who walks around
going ‘Psst, you gotta anything to eat?’), Slim,
Skinney, Stinky, Doc, Professor, Tiny, Pony, Chewy,
Monkey, Doogie, Carleto(?) and Lawnmower Man. We
did have a guy named Opy but then he turned it into
Opra. I didn't ask why, but he got sent somewhere
else. Anyway we all want to thank you for sending
TC(r)#6. I have a friend who I just started writing

—

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848 COMMUNITY SPACE S24 NFO: cins2e 7858

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to in Coos County Jail. She got screwed over but was
saved by this expert witness from California. I read
in the paper that he proved the police turned her
statement around and tried to make her look really
bad. She is doing a few years which is a lot less than
they wanted to give her. Anyway they did the same
thing to me. I asked her for the name and address
so I could see what the guy would charge me to have
him write a letter on my behalf for my appeal. She
“ih his name but couldn't get his address because

er attorney won't answer her letters because she
isn't paying im anymore. It figures!! Anyway she
said his name was Dr. Richard Ofshe and she said he
teaches at Berkeley. All the sudden I thought hey
Frank Moore is from Berkeley. I was thinking if it
would be possible maybe you could find out how I
could write him. If not it's okay I'll think of some-
thing. But maybe you know some people who go to
school there. Well I'll let you go. I can't tell you how
embarrassed I was when I wrote you last time. I
think I wrote Fred instead of Frank and when I
realized it, it was too late I had already put it in the
box. I had been writing an appeal for a guy who is
dyslexic (Mark, the guy in the poem). Anyway this

uy who ratted on him was named Fred Moore from
Sohn Day Oregon. I guess the name stuck. Well any
way take it easy Erank and I'll be waiting to read the
next TC(r). Your devoted fan

Rick "Catfish" Bagby

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MONICA SELES DIES, 76,

MOVIE STAR AND TENNIS GREAT

January 23, 2050 — Lexington, KY (RP) — Just months after
being served defeat in the final court challenge of a decades-
old battle to try to enter the U.S. government’s anti-aging pro-
gram, Monica Seles passed away. She was 76.

Her death, according to the city coroner, was caused by
the adverse chemical effects of a Lexington doctor’s own,
illegal trial of anti-aging therapy on the once-renown movie
and tennis star. The doctor, Sammy M. Fung, is a Chinese
national and faces deportation. Seles was born on December
2, 1973, in Novi Sad, Yugoslavia — a former Soviet Bloc
country soon to be civil-war torn.
She slugged her way out of the
nation with her tennis racket, before
ethnic infighting began, becoming
the youngest No. 1-ranked player
ever in 1991.

At the height of her tennis
career, Seles was stabbed in the
back by a crazed fan in a 1993 tour-
nament in Germany. Although she
came back to play tennis for several
more years, she never again attained
sole possession of No. 1.

Seles, yet, found that she had
another talent: acting. With the
prodding of then-boyfriend and
director Salvian Hernandez, she
auditioned for the now-classic 2007
movie “I’m Black and Endowed.”
She ended up starring in the flick
with Will Smith and it grossed over $100 million — an
unprecedented figure for an X-rated movie. It marked the first
large-scale success for what was considered “porn” by the
popular media of the day, and that movie was the genesis of
the “cinema erotique” movement in filmmaking.

“Cinema erotique was different than its predecessor:
porn,” said Fred Bindillinger, professor of film at Cayuga
County Community College. “While both film styles had
closeups of genitalia, cinema erotique focused on imperfec-
tion and realistic situations, and found beauty in them. Porn
relied on fantasy and people with ‘ideal’ bodies, or it was just
plain dirty.”

“I’m Black and Endowed” was filmed in black and white,
and — in a scene that’s famous among film buffs — during
the final climax, the camera centers on a closeup of the scar
on Seles’ back from the real-life stabbing.

“That scene, where her scar, instead of a penis or vagina,
is center stage — that marked the leap from plain-old pornog-
raphy to something artistic, something for real,” Bindillinger
added. “And Seles, with those same grunts she used in her
tennis days, said more than Shakespeare’s Hamlet.”

Seles, who went on to star in “Rope-a-Grope” (2010) and
“Covet Thy Neighbor’s Wife (and Daughter)” (2012), had
her screenwriting and directorial debut in 2018 with the ten-
nis-based cinema erotique flick “Serving Love,” winning
numerous independent film awards. But for all her ability,
none of Seles’ films ever got any mainstream awards: She
was never even nominated for an Oscar.

Her ostracization, many believe, had to do with her
refusal to sign with a major studio: do milder movies for a lot
more money. And that also marked her downfall.

The government gives a limited
number of anti-aging awards each
year to people who still have
“unique” contributions to make:
Usually artists, writers, scientists
and CEOs get the expensive thera-
py, which slows aging sometimes to
the point where a person will only
gain one biological day for a
month’s worth of real time.

But anti-aging applications are
judged by representatives from
large profit-making companies,
like Time-Warner, duPont and
Microsoft, because big business
ends up paying for the therapy
thanks to the Taxpayers Reform Act
of 2028, which merged big business
with government to lower individ-
ual taxes.

Therefore, said a UNLV study recently, the anti-aging
awards rarely go to non-mainstream artists and writers —
and Seles fell victim to her own refusal to work for a major,
government-friendly entertainment provider.

She tried unsuccessfully in a series of court cases to get
the government to appoint a more unbiased anti-aging review
board, getting all the way to the Supreme Court. But the
cause ended up being futile, with justices selected by presi-
dents, and presidents backed by commercial corporations
like Houghton-Mifflin and Disney. Her applications mean-
while kept getting rejected by the board, for reasons includ-
ing “her unwillingness to coach tennis,” “nary a positive
movie review by the New York Times” and “it’s unlikely
she’ll ever be associated with an accessible, crowd-pleasing
flick, a la Home Alone XIV.”

“If she just had one more ‘Serving Love’ in her, she’d be
worth all the anti-aging therapy in the world,” estimated
Bindillinger. “The government refusing her is just another

stab in the back.”

by Darren Johnson
Recketusa @ delphi.com

A Sexual Coquetry

Many times sex is like rhyming words,
You know what's coming next (no pun
intended to any particular individual),
You know it’s going to sound like what it
already is, only different, only very
different. You know you'll hear the last
syllable roll over against itself as some
familiar, earthy, chiming breath, but you
don’t expect it anyway, and it clears a
tunnel through you that is the echo of
your own vice, only different, only not
very different. You want to recognize it
because it wouldn't be a proper rhyme
otherwise, unfamiliar, odd. But you want
to be surprised anyway, otherwise it
wouldn't be a proper rhyme, delightful,
unexpected, new pleasure. You can
repeat the parts that sound alike again
and again; they always sound different
and the same. You anticipate, you
hesitate, but only a little. You float
through the sound. You don’t remember
when it sounded this raw before, this
essential, Until it does again.

Al Cunningham

Ly

a

LA FUERZA DEL VOLUMEN by George Wirth (Panama)

C2

Lost friends re-friending

howeverjuice did it (happen) that silly

collide Chow | am) sitting down just as Cyou are)
standing and up-bumping (closely)

as can come (your bib) overalls two blue
(swollen) masterpieces hoping |

will play the kiss game gently as (sleeping)
flowers full at (lips level) flexible

(for being) mischievous to create cunning
hide & seek getting the room (lots warmer)
becoming thru moonlight |

why am (I shy?) shall | try? not frivolous need
is a reason but | do know (play is)

your favorite game (the thought) of rich
(kissing) and with the lamps off

love flows freer (eager)

persistence begetting whimmed son pi
smooth (rising) the elevator motionful (and soon)
sweet swellings and (soon tongues)

reaching deep to (feast on) full deliria

(of bodies) engaging oodles

of slippery skin before eagling (birdwings)
high flying (homeward) is heaven...

Jim DeWitt

BLING MAPSTED? BLING APuseD!
BEING Taken ADVAN Tage oF fF
T3 a leyear-old

who already has 3 hard-on
pepe. ne starts to takeoff
becauce hes socxcited
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And when he yuns home
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picturing thew mons
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3% having been Baker advantage OF .

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Alone in the madness of empty nights

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of worry ?
when will I lose t
insane loneliness ?

Mictelamiitomall est

while the nights keep coming
and cigarettes burn like

logs in my hand and |

the empty beer cans

crowd the floor.

Mark Senkus

PEACE #< °

above th’ chaos,

11/25/96
8:47 pm

Hello Frank M:

heyy, nice postcard you sent. Women in
general get me off, but two getting each other
off always brings me on to.a wonderful fanta-
sy land far from the dull germs infecting my
existence.

Hope all is kickin’ some shit around over your
way. Here it’s a lot of clock-watching and mis-
calculating love. At least my lighter keeps —

working... 2

I've got a hel | ofa challenge comi ng

on...have to quit drinking for 11 days while |.
take pills to kill some kind of STD that begins

with a “c”. | got it from a married slut of all —
things. Well, she'll have fun explaining it to

the hubby. Wish | could be there to see his
face, and then tell him “hey, don’t feel so
bad, she gave it to me too”.

: Anyway— a few new chants for your view.
Hope you might find something dig-able in

: _ there.

_ Gonna whittle this down for now.

Mark Senkus

LUCID MOON

VY November 1998 lesue 2
Poetry Cartoons Die:

FHEANTESS : ar ISSLEae

ristians. 2nd Sn oem eae Wwe must Ne

CO potential spiritual dangers In the products we buy. tven
Ooks - once there were only Bibles being printed. now
- there are books like:

Transient Ways
( by none other than the ne infamous Jessica Hahn.

~ Unveiling Satan!
‘ Her True Identity Revealed

“The more you know about vour enemy. the better off vou are...”

ty gemma |S IT ANY WONDER she has been able to —+—
4 DECEIVE THE WHOLE WORLD. 21M says ic Reveletion 12:7"
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rad Ink gree ciasse wes contcust Uibl GAt’soepand, called the Dud adbe Siteniwho DE-
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B In this Sei poe wil nea proven (Tom aumecToxs numetows higeosical and authontauve

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AT LAST UNVEILED.

Tancient Ways $6
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Available from: Also available from:
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: i j j San Francisco, CA 94140 San Francisco, CA 94110
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Now seeking submissions
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from heartfelt romantic poetry to underground Beat Poetry

DIGGER UNDERGROUND DISTRI BUTION EXCHANGE

a free service to get zines ,etc.

Make checks payable to Ralph Haselmann Jr., 67 Norma Rd, Hampton NJ 08827
a ae TOR eae fo ae - out in the San Francisco Bay Area
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a i |
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New Hope, PA 18938
f Dave & Ana Chnisty, editors
< : - (215) 862-0299
FAROE S MAURITIUS “ The Best of The Small Press”
[ON RY BROT Ie puoetos
[FC BANYROTI Bot wes bY

ee ee er Tr ee eee
ee

ODO OOO dV LAaoaser

ee ee fn nirnicrwntcants
wie

an early mourning poem

it is Zam

it is quiet and grey outside

the only sound is

the compressor upstairs

delivering oxygen to an 84 year old woman breaking down

DAA te MAI SoOn/

even through these floors

Cast oF the Geais | can hear those 84 year old lungs

wheezing at the effort

for William S. Burroughs of pushing
and pulling
You sly dog and keeping those thick legs moving

You've finally gone to that
junkie haven in the sky

You pickled your liver and something always hurts

that's why you lived so long and she does not sleep well at all
Last of the Beats -you can see the front room light on at night
the living-room with peeling wall paper
Homo that hasn't had visitors in twenty years
piped because Italians always entertain in the kitchen
Your life was a cameo | keep telling myself | need to go out and
in a movie tend to the garden that she cannot descend the stairs to water
You were a cut-up like most but | have always hated dying people
of your cut and paste novels the imminent threat disturbs me
eee the eventual loss
the smell of incense
Naked Lunch and one more limousines ride
Drugstore Cowboy and those zucchini lying on the ground
The Wild Boys waiting for hands to claim them
You were the last of the bande te clone them
wildboys
Kerouac,
Ginsberg, it is Zam
Corso | am going to turn on the radio
With homoerotic lust coursing Giovanni Moro email: giovanni @ blazt. com
through your veins
Sick for the needle
Shot your wife in a William Tell
adventure
Make a Nike commercial to rival We Wert So poor SroWing u
Ginsberg’s Gap ad that if \didary Wake vp

Scaring most of middle America
with your pallid, weary poetry
reading style

Last of the Beats

with « hard-an \ had Aothin
+o Play with heres of the doy!

We hardly knew ye

Ralph Paselmann Ir.
8/13/97

email: lucidmoon® worldnet. att.net

The Poem Will Save You
by Raindog (World Wide Rights Reserved)
lumoxraindog@earthlinknet

"even their nightmares are ringed with tinsel” Charles Bukowski

It's the middle of Mag and a warm tropical rain is falling
turning dusty streets into greasy ones.

I'mreading the newest book of poesy from my favorite,
now dead, poet

and marveling at his clarity and the strength of his lines.
He said it

“The poem will save your ass from madness”
The poem will save you

while fat drops of acid rain descend

while the bills pile up

while the paint peels X\
while you wait and wait and wait N
for something to change

it doesnt matter what it is

as long as it’s something j Jj
The poem will save you

while your auto insurance climbs
while the phone screams your name
while the pipe calls to you

from the other room

while the beer goes flat

while the women come and go

while you jerk into the hollow memories of their brief
laugnten with legs spread wide

while someone lets the air out of your tires

the wind out of your sails

the joy out of your days

while the life seeps out of your windows

while the warranty on your ver runs Out

while the internet sucks you off

while the open grave waits patiently

and the orange waits to be peeled

and the lights flicker

and the ground moves

and the really important stories wait to be t/sold
and the needle crawls across the floor

like an inch worm

while you wait for it’s promise of happy stupidity
while you binge on lollypop dreams of power and glory
while you starve to death

twisting in the wind

The poem will save you

The poem will save you.

*
perereny

Nee

while your heart considers the pros and cons of retirement

across his lap

HUEN RON O NEAL HAS SULERTEY

everything was superkool &
funky & fun...& suddenly it
was hip ta black folk ta b
black; it was hip fer white
folk ta finance black dreams
...mMusic, movies & tv. it

was hip ta empower black fol
ks; inspire black folks. it

\S was kool ta b in the “know”

...aware of the groove....
thanks b ta mr. quincy jones
...thanks b ta isaac hayes,

& his oscar-winning-superhit
-SHAFT-theme. thanks b ta
marvin gaye’s TROUBLE MAN.
thanks b ta mister curtis
mayfield’s superkool SUPER
FLY soundtrack....thanks b.

frank fhoore

sees More pussy
than your average
pet shop

has had @nnie sprinkle
writhing

. . ee "ae as Ve anaes
eons =
wees 2 Vane

has survived
the calamity
and holocaust
and gethsemani
of lite, yet
smiles like a
beatific child
when cameras
gun him down.

robert l. penick
3929 g. fifth st.
louisville, ky 4O214

e

SIGNALS FROM SPACE

It was oval square and round +
tiny blueish-black speck from space.
hurtling a million miles an hour on

cosmic railroad tracks, going in circles.

The shattered ghost of route 66 sending television
images out into infinity; the qodhead that seeded
the void watching Uncle Miltie in drag, Howdie Doodie

on a bad day, the bombing of Pearl Harbor, of Hiroshima
of Korea, of England, France and Germany ;
Visions of a bee sting of humanity

beatnixs and poets, jazz and rock Arnold

the talking pig and Eva Gabor, | Love Lucy and
cops with clubs and riot dogs DEtroit burning
slave ships and whips Sammy Davis Junior tap
dancing Amoe€s and Andy, and Medgar Evers slain
Mississippi freedom march war protestors and
lunchings Vietnam Gays in closets President Eisenhower
and Kennedy The Mc Carthy hearings and Lenny Bruce
acid, pot and heroin hippies searching for Eden and
discovering the Earth walking away in disillusionment
Political assassins

The j€sus conspiracy assassins

Right wing Rush Limbaugh assassins of the truth
Elvis Presley in the army selling out rock ‘n’ roll
for Al Jolson The Beatles and Stoneés igniting the
sleeping coals of rock’ n’ roll

Kerouac fallen from the beatnix clouds of Nirvana, dharmakaya
plunges like a flaming whiskey god mumbling half remembered
dialog from San Francisco Woodstock and cowboys and
Indians, reservations and last stands white and black

butchers Gunsmoke and Bonanza Charlie Manson and Sharon
Tate John and Yoko Nikon and Mao Beqgar’s Banquet and John’s
butcher cover Yesterday and today only a crazed image of tomorrow
wavering like a meteor shower in the downtown milky way

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#a—-Beg-
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REVIEWS

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary #8
1999

“(TC(r) #8 was) well enjoyed! Particularly I like the layout,

it is so fresh and sort of ‘clear, I dont know exactly how to define it.
GOOD perhaps, or is that too worn out?”

J Luoma, Trapezchedron Press, Finland

“a zine caught between wisdom and child's play, sex, and good ideas.”
Jesse Beagle

“Just read the new TCR from cover to cover and was fuckin blown away.
Raindog, Catfish, Linda Montano, all the art! Elliott, the LaBash “softer”
style. Leaping, thrilling, alive. The disability piece. DON’T get a life, listen
to LUVER. Raced through the zine. The black and white became acid
colours. Streaming through my saturated brain. I was out of breath when i
put it down?

Barb Golden

“Read it cover to cover, just couldn't put it down. Ya know, alot of
publications look pretty, and catch the eye, but this did alot more for me.
I'm impressed at the quality of the content, and how it seemed like almost
every part of the thing reached me on level after level. I found your article
on fame especially valuable as I often grapple with the sense sometimes
that my work attracts profit mongers, yet I tend to run like hell from them,
even though I admit I wouldnt mind making a buck sometime. It’s funny,
no matter how explicit the work, it’s never “dirty” until money starts to
become involved. Ray Heinrichs poem “Someone else...” was terrific. A
genuine expression. Delightful and somewhat risky. Good art. I loved the
Grapin photos. They had a fantasy quality along with a real quality, and
bore alot of looking at again and again.”

Daak Madison

“Really interesting articles and over all such outrageous vitality and

idealism... such a relief from all the gloom and conformity of the 90's.
Tony Ryan

“Every evening when I get up I thank God for Frank Moore. Powerful
poetry, incredible artwork, essays, and photos of pretty girls naked! What
more could a guy ask for?”

Robert Penick, Chance Magazine Reviews

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

“Okay. On the surface this appears to be another underground, sex-
themed zine. It’s not. At least, it’s not just that. Its more of an on-going
“mission statement” by publisher Frank Moore and his army of
(r)Evolutionaries. It contains poetry, stories, essays, sexy photos,
drawings by Claudio Parentela (you see his work in the Journal, as
well as the LRB series). Blair Wilson and the ever-demented Michael
LaBash, an interesting article on Assembling Magazines, letters and
commentaries on Frank's many projects in the realm of Sex-Magik and
the breaking down of sexual taboos. In other words, something for
everyone (assuming your mind hasnt been shut down or sanitized
“for your protection’), unless you're Jesse Helms.”

Raindog, Lummox Journal, October 1999

“I started wondering what the hell happened to that really cool hippie
magazine that used to come out of Berkeley. It's been about two long
years, but Frank Moore has finally graced us with a new issue, and I have
to say that is was time well spent. Some of the contents are “Rethinking
the Disability Agenda’, “Assembling Magazines’, a great piece by Frank
Moore called “What Price Fame’, poetry and art. Also included, at least
in my mailing, is a copy of Frank Moore's famed “Out of Isolation”
which was a real treat. All in all, it’s well worth the $5 Frank wants for it.
Yes, it's truly a zine of all possibilities”

Ken Wagner, BLUE RYDER PRESENTS...BEST OF THE UNDER-
GROUND, Vol. 3 (October 1999)

“Frank Moore, with Linda Mac are at #8 with this zine of all possibilities
in which plenty of drawings and pictures make it most unique. Tony
Ryans B&W pictorial is a treat and there is a presentation made by
Frank that indeed reveals much of Tony’s talent. Beautiful women and
interacting people presented with class. Frank has a lot to say in there
and other contributors are really taking it to the edge in drawing as
much as in writing. The nude aspect is not shied upon, so is the sensual
and erotic aspect. It's all in there in B&W. Their web of all possibilities is
at http://www.eroplay.com.”

Peter Riden, The Affiliate Jan/Feb 2000

“Very thought and libido provoking”
Tero Lehto, Finland

REVIEWS CONTINUED...

"...had a great night and read the entire zine (TC(r)#8) thoroughly:
wonderful, every article and poem; (LaBashs) outerspace drawings!
and wiggle/drawings (my hair) - also a fantastic article on a wish to
see death (Linda Montano) and a fine poem that turned out to be our
Ralphy’s (Ralph Haselmann) re: Burroughs.

Re-read your (Frank Moore's) outstanding article on fame; I relate to so
much of that! - Well, obviously, my poem follows it!!!! ALL the poetry
was good!!

Frank, the Zine is not just Hors doeuvre, it is breakfast, lunch and
dinner and dessert. I mean, all encompassing and from so many avenues
of words and from the simple statements to the erudite, it is substance!”
Jesse Beagle, artist, musician, playwright, composer

“The cover photo alone, of the nude nymph trimming her pubes, makes
this issue of The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary worth picking up, and the
inside freedom of expression continues to reign in the forms of articles,
art, and poetry. The poetry end is a little heavy, comprising about a
quarter of the mag, and some of the special interest pieces (“Theater
Rant and ‘Rethinking the Disability Agenda’) sort of evade me, but
there's some other good and wide-ranging material here. Besides
artwork by the prolific and talented artists Claudio Parentela and Blair
Wilson, there's an essay on editorial collectives and correspondence

art projects, Assembling Magazines by Stephen Perkins, Tony Ryan's
photos of nude hippy chicks, a satirical obituary for Monica Seles (dead
at 76 due to botched anti-aging treatment after a successful career in
mainstream porno), and a mini-zine, Out of Isolation, which is the story
for a film by editor Frank Moore about the love affair between a nurse
and her severely disabled patient. The most surprising and amazing
piece here though is ‘Subject: India by Linda Montano, about her travel
to Benares to better understand the nature of death. And it seems the
place is ideally suited to such lessons, as portions of her travelogue read
like A Panorama of Hell: “Not look at the wild pig nudging the little girl's
ass and eating her feces as it dropped to the earth...a bloated, headless,
bluish, one breasted woman floated by: Fascinating stuff which makes
what seems like a difficult existence working for a living here in the

US. feel downright heavenly by comparison. You can expect nearly
anything from a publication coming out of Berkeley, and Cherotic
(r)Evolutionary maintains a better creative balance than one might
expect.’

Tom Crites, Paniscus Revue #6

About Frank Moore

F rank Moore was an American performance

artist, shaman, teacher, poet, essayist, painter, musi-
cian, and internet/television personality who exper-
imented in art, performance, ritual, and shamanistic
teaching from the late 1960s until his death in 2013
in Berkeley, California.

Moore is perhaps most well known as one of
the NEA-funded artists targeted by Jesse Helms
and the GAO (General Accounting Office) in the
early 1990s for doing art that was labeled “obscene”.
Frank Moore was featured in the 1988 cult film
Mondo New York, which chronicled the leading
performance artists of that period. He is well known
for long (5-48 hours) ritualistic performances with
audience participation, nudity, and eroticism. But
he has also become well known for his influential
writings on performance, art, life, and cultural
subversion, for his historic influence on the San
Francisco Bay Area music and performance scene,
and more recently for his online performance/video
archive that has been viewed by over 32 million
people worldwide.

Moore coined the word, “eroplay” to describe
physical play between adults released from the lin-
ear goals of sex and orgasm. He explored this, and
similar concepts in performance and ritual as a way
for people to connect on a deep human level with
each other beyond the social and cultural expecta-
tions and limitations, and as a way to melt isolation
between people.

Moore has been an underground counter-cul-
ture hero and artistic inspiration for decades. He
was born with cerebral palsy, could not walk or talk,
and wrote books, directed plays, directed, acted in
and edited films, regularly gave poetry readings,
played piano, sang in ensemble music jams, and
continued to lead bands in hard core punk clubs
up and down the west coast until his death. He
also produced a large collection of original oil and
digital paintings that have been shown across the
United States and in Canada. Moore communicated
using a laser-pointer and a board of letters, num-
bers, and commonly used words.

Performance artist Annie Sprinkle considers
Moore one of her teachers, and Moore performed
with a host of performance and punk figures of the
underground since the 1970s like Barbara Smith,
Linda Sibio, The Feederz, and Dirk Dirksen - The
Pope of Punk.

Frank Moore first came to be known in the
1970s as the creator of the popular cabaret show,
The Outrageous Beauty Revue. In the 1980s he
became one of the United States’ foremost perfor-
mance artists. In 1992 he was voted Best Perfor-
mance Artist by the San Francisco Bay Guardian.
In the early 1990s he was targeted by Senator Jesse
Helms. From 1991 to 1999 Frank Moore published
and edited the acclaimed underground zine, The
Cherotic (r)Evolutionary.

In addition to his books, Cherotic Magic, Art of a
Shaman, Chapped Lap, Skin Passion and numerous
other self-published pieces, Frank Moore was wide-
ly published in various art and other periodicals. In
artist Pamela Kay Walker's book, Moving Over the
Edge, Moore is one of the artists featured as having

“greatly impacted me and many people through their

artistic expression and their lives.’

Frank Moores award-winning video works have
shown throughout the U.S. and Canada, and in 2001
Moore began producing shows for Berkeley's public
access channel, Berkeley Community Media, Chan-
nel 28. His shows continue to play several times
each week.

In 2011, Frank launched his online performance
and video retrospective on Vimeo. At the same time,
he created the EROART group featuring videos by
eroart artists from all over the world.

Frank Moores Web of All Possibilities, www.
eroplay.com, features a growing archive of his audio,
video, visual and written work, as well as the work
of other artists. He founded Love Underground
Visionary Revolution (LUVeR) in 1999, a webstation
combining live streaming and on-demand librar-
ies of audio and video programming, described
by Moore as a “non-corporate, d.i-y., totally un-
censored, noncommercial, nonprofit internet-only

Frank Moore, 1991. Photo by Linda Mac.

communal collective with 24-hour ‘live’ program-
ming (by amazing people) with ‘no-limits’ content.’
LUVeR ran until 2012.

In 2006, Moore announced his candidacy for
the 2008 election for President of the United States.
He became a qualified write-in candidate in 25
states. His campaign was responsible for reforming
the write-in candidate qualifications and procedures
in many states. His platform videos are available on
YouTube.

Moore also hosted his regular internet show,
“Frank Moore's Shaman’s Den”. Moore described it as
a show that “will arouse, inspire, move, threaten you,
not with sound bites, but with a two-hour (usually
longer) feast of live streaming video. You might
get an in-studio concert of bands from around the
world ... or poetry reading ... or an in-depth con-
versation about politics, art, music, and LIFE with
extremely dangerous people! But then you may
see beautiful women naked dancing erotically. You
never know, because you are in The Shamans Den

with Frank Moore.’ Video and audio archives of all
of these Shaman’s Den shows are available online.

Frank Moore performed regularly in the San
Francisco Bay Area up until his death. His life and
art are now being documented in a web video series
called Let Me Be Frank.

As of September 2017, Frank Moore's work is
now being archived at the Bancroft Library at the
University of California, Berkeley. The collection is
titled: “Frank Moore papers, approximately 1970-
2013;

In April 2018, the Berkeley Art Museum and
Pacific Film Archive (BAMPFA) accepted two of
Frank's oil paintings into their permanent collec-
tion: Mariah (1977), and Patti Smith (1979).

In 2019, a collection of Frank Moore's work was
archived at the Performistanbul Live Art Research
Space in Istanbul, Turkey.

His students and the people influenced by his
life/work continue his vision.

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ESI POSSIBILITIE

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Frank Moore Online

Frank Moore’s Web Of All Possibilities
http://www.eroplay.com

The Shaman’s Cave
Performance archives, writings, articles and more
http://www.eroplay.com/Cave/shaman.html

Books by Frank Moore
http://www.eroplay.com/books

Let Me Be Frank - web video series
http://frankadelic.com

Frank Moore Video Collection on The Internet Achive
https://archive.org/details/frank-moore-archives

Frank Moore Audio Archives on The Internet Achive
https://archive.org/details/FrankMoore

Frank Moore’s Shaman’s Den Archives
Includes an archive of this online show
http://www.eroplay.com/underground/shamansden.html

Frank Moore's Painting Gallery
http://www.eroplay.com/Cave/painting-slideshow/paintings.html

Frank Moore Archives Blog
http://eroplay.org/

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary
http://www.eroplay.com/contents.html

2008 Presidential Campaign Platform Videos
http://www. youtube.com/user/frankmooreforprez08/videos

Frank Moore on Wikipedia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Moore_(performance_artist)

December 21, 2000

Hi Paul,

Thanks for sending us your work.

TC(r) is on indefinite hiatus so we are not accepting any new
material. We run an internet radio station, Love

Underground Vision Radio (LUVeR) at http://www.luver.com

If you read your work onto a tape we will play it on LUVeR.

In Freedom,
Frank

The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary
Frank Moore

P.O. Box 11445
Berkeley, CA 94712
fmoore@eroplay.com
http://www.eroplay.com
http://www.luver.com
http://www. luver.org

In 1991, Kyle and Luna Griffith of S/R Press, who were at that time publishing

ae Taat-lava -vacelanar-]arecm-ladeima cle) @iilele) cam olele) em @el-ce) elem iielel(omiule le (-tic-temaal-1 a al=
start a zine. Thus was born The Cherotic Revolutionary (TCR). The name of the zine
later morphed into The Cherotic (r)Evolutionary. Here is how Frank described TCR
in his first “Frankly Speaking” column in issue 0. The “Frankly Speaking” column

Fe) ol=y-]actem-1mdal-Mor-rellalaliare mel m-t-(o ame (=F

“TCR is a journal of the edge. TCR is an offensive movement or measure, offering
alternatives to the fragmentation, isolation, personal helplessness which is
actively promoted by the combine of power systems. TCR is anarchical, based on
valu oX-Ve-Xolar-] Macey oLolartiol lig mcon c-syal-] oX-Me-r-] ii aml elcome Manvelc-malelear-lammaaeridliarepm cen iare,
HIS Amiel me) mallam-lalem o)(-r-C10)¢-Mm Gl WC Malo) mr Me-l-led(o) ame lMw-Manl-lel(e-] @-(ameym-lay ley lare,
Ticcmm he cw (oLULeal-] me) mr lave mice) am ey-to) o)(-Mialem-la-mele)lavemanlmant-lel(e-] §-(4 SYM lar lINVZ
at Wee Movar-lalat-]me)maclanlanlelal(ercid(e)atw-lanleatemaat-m ol-lavolal-] Meco) id (olamemmeldal-l ani nx=
known as mutations ... which has always been the main fuel for evolution. Now
we magical misfits know we are not alone, that there are others out/in here/there
c-1-) [lave pm dalla. diavepmaadiacepmeloliate miianlitclaaaliace em Mel eMieci mo micx-)imyalelel remy el-i-16|
evolution up.”

Later he wrote in “Frankly Speaking” for issue #5:

my Mal-\-com com al-lal @ual-w-4ia-meelanlanlelalis’ mola] Miele dale me-\Z(-\ cme) mm GC emen'(-) mi dal
years. | only wish they would not classify TC(r) as a sex zine. We do have a lot of

sex in us. We will never shy away from that. But we really are an Anarchist/ Arts/
Avant-Garde/ Experimental/ Art/ Beat/ Cartoons/ Community/ Counter-Culture/
Alternatives/ Culture/ Dada/ Surrealism/ Erotica/ Essays/ Ethics/ Feminism/ Fiction/
Gay/ Humanism/ Humor/ Interview/ Lesbianism/ Libertarian/ Literature (General)/
Magic/ Non-Fiction/ Philosophy/ Photography/ Poetry/ Prose/ Psychology/ Satire/
Sex/ Short Stories/ Spiritual zine ... or a life on the edge zine ... for short.’

NTTaKeM ESLOC=e) im dal=W4lal-Mslc-m Lele) ctelsemelelalale mual-iM Bool¢ wm ic-y-laelalale@-lad(a(-e-lale,
exel-1u eV o)’mmc-lal @iucele) c-pwavalal(-me) elalala(-pm'(-reelal (eM (=) ¢- Pm @-] ce) MOLU(-\-10 Pm Clea ma lal(sy\A
Noni Howard, Jack Foley, Ana Christy, Lob, Robert W. Howington, Dorothy Jesse
sX=r-Le | (om Mlaver-MiUcelaie-lavem-lacemant-lapmanlele-m hal-W-4lal-e-]emlalaiece(-leM (olewelm-laalvela @-lare
photos by the likes of H.R. Giger, Annie Sprinkle, John Seabury, Tony Ryan, Brian
Viveros, T.R. Miller, Sean Bieri, Claudio Parentela, LaBash and many others.

The first three issues (0-2) were published by S/R Press. In 1993, Frank took over
eLUlo)icyaliavemaalcclecelamalcmateyalelcoyiiemiaic-leaa(-1(-lacelacy

me-lal@oleimaal-mo)ce)(-rel mmole mlace(-Tilalic-Melt-laec wa lamm bobooo ol-lo--LULY-Mal-Mar-VoM [OC imcie-]accte ir.
VY WMI Malia a1-1 190s Taal ale mm e-Lel comedies ld(e) apm Meon'c-m Olale(-lcelcolUlaremuUrd(o)ar-lavmat-(el(o
TUA(=) Keolen Mm dati mic: kwe(-lear-lacellave monte) com-lale mantel come) Malema lan(ee

Cover design and artwork by Michael LaBash
Published by Inter-Relations - fmoore@eroplay.com » www.eroplay.com

©2020 Inter-Relations

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